Love?
by Crowsnight66
Summary: Sequel to Kings. July finally comes around, and Alfred is more excited than usual for his birthday because Ivan is flying to America for the week. And with a plan for intimate time, that sounds great, but…what is their relationship exactly? Is this what people call "love"? Warnings inside. UPDATES EVERY FRIDAY!
1. Privacy

**Warning: This story is rated M for shounen-ai/yaoi, sexual content (nothing explicit), and mentions of rape/abuse.**

 **Summary: July finally comes around, and Alfred is more excited than usual for his birthday because Ivan is flying to America for the week. And with a plan for intimate time, that sounds great, but…what is their relationship exactly? Is this what people call "love"?**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **Hetalia**_ **or any of the characters.**

 **Note: This is the sequel to** _ **Kings**_ **. If you have not read that story, you need to do so before you begin this one. With that said, please enjoy!**

 _ **Love?**_

 _Chapter 1: Privacy_

" _Strange maze. What is this place? I hear voices over my shoulder. Nothing's making sense at all. Wonder, why do we race when every day we're running in circles. Such a funny way to fall. Tried to open up my eyes. I'm hoping for a chance to make it alright._

" _When I wake up, the dream isn't done. I wanna see your face and know I made it home. If nothing is true, what more can I do? I am still painting flowers for you."_

―" _Painting Flowers" by All Time Low_

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

Arthur can't help but stare as Alfred sits on the floor in front of the door. Everyone else is in between the foyer and living room, setting up tables and moving furniture.

" _Angleterre_ , leave him be." Francis appears behind Arthur, wrapping the other in his arms. "He is simply lovesick."

Once he shrugs out of the Frenchman's hold, Arthur mutters, "He should be helping."

"It is his birthday. Let him wait."

"Why did Russia have to be the last person to get here? Is that not the reason we all come the day before?"

Francis kisses Arthur's cheek. "I must return to the kitchen. If you feel the urge to keep company with him, sit."

Of course, Francis is gone before Arthur can smack him. However, the Englishman does sit down beside Alfred as the younger nation stares at the door. "Did he give you a timeframe?"

"Yeah, he's five minutes late. I think Mattie kidnapped him."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "I'm certain that Matthew is simply driving safely."

"Driving five miles over the speed limit won't kill anyone."

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

"Alfred assured me that he gave you the letter I wrote?" Ivan says as Matthew drives towards the house. Or at least Ivan assumes that's the direction they are headed.

"He did, and I read it," Matthew replies, trying to keep his tone serious, but there's something far too amusing about Ivan holding and nuzzling a giant cat in his lap. "You asked for my permission."

"I did."

"It's not really my permission to give."

" _Nyet_ , it is very important to me that you approve of our relationship."

"And why is that?"

"Because Alfred loves you very much, and if you do not want us to be together, it will put strain on our relationship."

Matthew hums. "And what if I say that I don't want you anywhere near him?"

"Then I will be very sad, but that will not keep me away from him."

There's a long moment of silence.

"You are very much the kind of man I think Al needs in his life," Matthew finally says.

Ivan furrows his brow. "I am?"

"Someone who will push him. Someone with more experience in the world, but doesn't always use it against him." Matthew pulls into the driveway and parks among several other cars. Ivan assumes there are about fifty. "Yes, I approve of your relationship, but my threat is still in place."

"Of course. Thank you very much, Canada."

"Matthew, please."

"Then you may call me Ivan."

As they walk to the front door, Matthew says, "Be careful when you open the door; Al's been sitting in front of it since I left according to Francis."

"I will keep that in mind."

However, when Ivan opens the door, no one is there. Well, there are plenty of people, but no Alfred. Ivan recognizes the countries; the Italy brothers, Antonio annoying one of them while the other follows around Ludwig, Gilbert, Kiku, and Tino handing decorations to Berwald to hang. Then there are at least thirty people that Ivan doesn't recognize at all.

One of those people―a girl with short, curly hair and a tube top and miniskirt―shouts, "Daddy, your boyfriend is here!"

"Look a' that thang!" a teenage boy exclaims. He has short, spiky hair, and he's wearing a red, flannel shirt. Pointing at Lapushka―who is curled up in Ivan's arms and obviously not happy about the attention―he continues, "The old man never said nothin' 'bout the commies havin' coons bigger than dogs!"

While a few of the people laugh and Ivan tries to ignore the insults to him and his feline royalty, he hears, "You're late!"

When Alfred stomps into the huge foyer, Ivan isn't sure if he's welcome. "I-I apologize, _Fredka_. I could not help―"

Alfred yanks Ivan down by his scarf and presses their lips together while Lapushka wiggles up onto Ivan's shoulder to perch.

Silence.

Then a few whistles, and Ivan hears two girls' voices say in unison, "Get it, Papa!"

At that, Alfred pulls away and says, "That's just weird."

"Hm?" Ivan asks, still a little tipsy from the kiss.

"Veronica and Hannah," Alfred says.

Ivan doesn't ask. Instead, he murmurs, "It is very nice to see you."

Alfred smiles and wraps his arms around the other in a crushing hug. "Yeah, you, too."

" _Russie_ , I require your assistance in the kitchen. You may _embrasses_ _Amérique_ later," Francis says from the hallway.

"Hey, it's my birthday!" Alfred protests into Ivan's chest. "He can French-word me if he wants to!"

Francis raises an eyebrow and leans against the wall with a smirk. " _Oui_ , he can. And if he does, I will do more than just _embrasser_ _Angleterre_ , andyou will have no birthday cake tomorrow."

Arthur's eyebrow twitches from his place in the living room. "Francis―"

"Okay, fine. But only for like, an hour," Alfred says as he releases Ivan from his grip.

Once Ivan and Francis disappear down the hall with an unhappy and mewing ball of fluff, Alfred turns to his brother, who is standing among the observing guests. "What did he say was going to do to Artie?"

Matthew puts a finger to his lips. "I don't say those things aloud."

While Alfred turns a deep red, Québec chuckles quietly. On the other hand, Arthur rolls his eyes and says, "It means 'to kiss', you git. Matthew, do not encourage his misinterpretations and idiocy."

"Wait a second, _amigo_. Why do _you_ know French?" Antonio asks from his place near the window. His arm is resting around Lovino's shoulders, and as soon as eyes turn to such a position, Lovino ducks away from the arm and mutters about Spanish idiots.

"Yeah, Artie. Why is that?" Alfred says with the best expression he can manage without laughing.

To give credit to Arthur, he doesn't blush or even stutter. "Our countries have been at war for centuries. Of course I know his language."

Matthew smiles and says, "That does make sense, Arthur, but Papa used to say that he wishes you never learned it while also ranting about hip pains."

"He just said that!" those two girls say in unison once again.

What Arthur says next is censored for being sexually explicit.

Antonio, Gilbert, Lovino, Feliciano, and most of the States and Provinces' jaws drop. Ludwig and Kiku both flush while Alfred shakes his head quickly and yells, "Dude, I didn't need to know that! About you! Or France! Or anybody!" He glares at his brother. "That was _gross_! Your fault!"

Matthew shrugs. "Haven't you wondered why Germany and Spain can speak Italian, Italy can speak German, and Romano can speak Spanish?" He glances at Sweden and Finland, who are standing in the corner seeming unfazed, though Finland's cheeks are slightly red. "And while I don't know this for a fact, I'm sure the same applies to Sweden and Finland. And Norway and Denmark." Well, now both Nordics' cheeks are blazing, even though Sweden keeps a straight face.

"Okay, but still! I didn't need to know!" Alfred groans. "Geez, don't you guys have any shame?"

Antonio laughs. "Pirates have no shame, former or otherwise."

"I hadn't noticed," Lovino mutters.

Alfred looks at his brother again. "And what's your excuse?"

"It amazes me that you think I'm that innocent, Al. We're twins; you should have figured these things out by now."

"Okay!" Dixie announces, clapping her hands twice. "States and Provinces, time for setting up the backyard!"

"Who put you in charge?" a man with a short ponytail asks.

Alfred snaps into parent mode for a moment. "I did. Listen to your sister, Jessie."

As the many, many States and Provinces file out the back door, Alfred mutters, "Your kids are better behaved than most of mine."

"You have fifty; I have ten," Matthew states.

Alfred rubs his temples and leans back against the wall. "I'm just glad that Texas is my glasses instead of another personification. I'm not sure if I could handle fifty-one."

In the kitchen, Ivan asks, "How many recipes do you make?"

"Roughly ten, I believe," Francis says as he pulls a spoon out of one of the drawers and dips it into one of his mixtures. "Taste."

Ivan crosses his eyes slightly to see what is on the spoon, but all he knows is that it's something white. It tastes delicious though. "Icing, _da_?"

" _Oui_. It is not the best for decorating, but _Amérique_ loves it more than any other I have made."

Ivan continues to measure some ingredients for Francis, though the chef usually is able to "eyeball" it, as he says. It's nice, Ivan thinks. Lapushka is asleep in one of the bar chairs, purring softly, and he can hear voices in the living room, even if not what they are saying. It's hard to miss Alfred's voice nowadays.

" _Amérique_ tells us that this will be his favorite birthday yet," Francis says, and while it seems random, Ivan is certain that it is not.

" _Da_ , he seems very excited."

Francis nods. " _Je le savais_. I also know who he is excited about."

Even though he tries to keep his expression calm, Ivan can't help his smile widening. " _D-da_ , we have something very special planned."

"Will it be your first time together?" Francis asks, though he seems completely focused on his task.

" _Nyet_ , the second. We already…" Ivan thinks about how open he can be with Francis. He figures that he has much less trouble talking about sex than Alfred, but it still is something rather private to share with the other country. But he does like Francis's advice; it always seems to help. "I took him during his stay at my house. Now it will be the other way around."

"You seem nervous."

"A little, _da_."

Francis is quiet for a few minutes, but after he instructs Ivan to help him ice the cake, he finally says, "It helped me immensely to keep my eyes open, among other things. I undressed myself and put Arthur's hands on me rather than let him explore my body freely." A moment passes. "This is likely particular to me, but I did not realize that my hair is a trigger for me until he pulled it slightly."

"Do you ever…have panic attacks in bed?" Ivan asks.

"Once, but I am more likely to vomit."

Once they finish icing the bottom layer of the cake and add the second layer on top of it, Francis sets his spoon in the bowl and looks up at Ivan. " _Russie_ , I want to make sure that…you do not have to give yourself to _Amérique_ this soon. Or ever, for that matter. Do not feel obligated to do that just because he gave himself to you."

Ivan shakes his head even before Francis has finished speaking. " _Nyet_ , I want to. I have tried before...by myself a few years ago, after... _him_. Touching in the same way. I had not done such a thing before, and it felt…good." He looks down at the counter, feeling his cheeks grow hot. "I did not know it could feel good to be touched there. When I slept with Alfred, it felt even better, and he enjoyed it, even in that position, so…" Ivan takes a breath, trying to find his words. "And he is understanding. I hear so many stories of women who cannot find a partner who accepts it and are called such horrible things, and it is even worse for men, but…Alfred does not do any of that."

Francis nods. " _D'accord_ , if that is what you want. But it may not work out the first time. Even if it does, it might not be sunshine and flowers through it all; I guarantee that it will be difficult."

"I know," Ivan murmurs.

"But after you get used to it, it feels amazing," Francis continues. "I cannot describe the feeling of closeness and intimacy."

Ivan smiles as he thinks about the morning he and Alfred had slept together. "This is slightly off topic, but when did you know that you were in love with England?"

Francis laughs with a shrug, picking up his spoon again and continuing to ice the cake. "Who knows? We have fought and loved so many times that I do not bother to keep track anymore. Of course, we have settled down more in the past few decades, and even then, we have our moments. But that is part of _la passion_ , _oui_?"

" _Da_ , I suppose you are correct."

Before either could say anything more, Alfred bursts into the kitchen, and Lapushka yowls in fright, though he settles quickly when he sees who it is.

Francis frowns. " _Amérique_?"

Alfred ignores him and looks at Ivan. "Say something in Russian."

"What?"

"I said say something in Russian!" Alfred demands.

A moment later, all Alfred understands is "Francis" and "Lapushka", and even then, he's not sure. He wonders how Ivan doesn't trip over his tongue with that many consonants.

Alfred frowns. "Why couldn't I understand it?"

Ivan raises an eyebrow. "Possibly because you do not know Russian?"

Francis chuckles. " _Amérique_ , there is more to it than that."

"More to what?" Ivan asks.

"Artie can speak French because he did the dirty with France," Alfred grumbles, seeming rather irritated. "It's a thing."

"I do not know what thing you are referring to, _Fredka_ ," Ivan says.

"What he means," Francis says, "is that when countries make love, they are able to speak the other's language. It is how _Angleterre_ learned French."

"Yeah, so I should be able to speak Russian!" Alfred says.

Francis shakes his head. " _Non_ , I said it is more complex. When _Rusie_ took you, he took your language. The opposite must happen for you to know Russian."

Alfred flushes. "H-how did you know―?!"

"I apologize, but I told him," Ivan says.

"What? Why?"

" _Amérique_ , leave it, _oui_? I do not gossip, especially in regards to such sensitive topics," Francis says.

"Since when?"

The Frenchman's eyes narrow slightly at the other, but he returns his attention back to the cake. "I could not tell you. Ignorance overrules facts."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alfred mutters.

"Careful, _Amérique_. I am making your cake."

That makes Alfred shut up.

After a moment of silence, Ivan says, "I-I did not mean to upset you, _Fredka_. I…um…."

"He wanted my advice on overcoming his past to be close to you." Francis looks up again, his eyes dark with anger. "Is that enough explanation or do you need a verbal picture?"

"France―" Ivan starts.

"My sex life is none of your business!" Alfred says.

" _Fredka_ ―"

"If you are sleeping with _Russie_ , it is partially his business, and he shared _some_ of it with me. Amazingly enough, it was not all about you," Francis snaps. "And was I not the one you contacted the last time you had sexual problems with him?"

Alfred opens his mouth, but Ivan says, "Please, do not fight. I did not realize that it would be such a problem―"

"What's going on?"

Ivan isn't sure if having Arthur is good or bad.

"It is nothing. Do not worry about it, _mon ange_ ," Francis mutters.

Arthur glances between his partner and his younger brother and then turns to Ivan. "What have I missed?"

"France and Alfred had an argument about…privacy," Ivan says carefully.

Alfred huffs and crosses his arms over his chest while Francis mutters something under his breath in French. Arthur frowns. " _Il quoi_?"

"Hey, no French!" Alfred demands.

"You're mad because Russia spoke to Francis about his sex life?" Arthur says as he turns to Alfred.

Francis shakes his head. " _C'est bien, amour. Il ne comprend pas_ _._ "

"No French!" Alfred repeats.

Arthur rolls his eyes. "We _could_ all try to be adults, yes?"

"I like that idea," Ivan says.

"I don't want France―or anybody―sticking their nose in my personal life!" Alfred says, his voice rising in volume.

Ivan shakes his head quickly. "Then it is my fault, Alfred, not France's."

" _That_ is not what angers me," Francis says, setting down his spoon with a little more force than needed. "I do not care about your sex life, and I would be content to not know anything about it. However, your lover is trying to overcome no small obstacle so that he can give you something much more precious than I think you can imagine, and all you care about is my involvement in trying to help? Help that was not forced on him, might I add." Electric blue fire heats Francis's gaze. "Be grateful that he wants to give you this. Otherwise, you are not even worthy of it in the first place."

With that, Francis pushes past Arthur and storms down the hallway. A door slams shut a few moments later.

 **Author Note: I'm back! And…uh…yeah, that was a little intense. No clue where that came from, but…you know. Stuff. Fingers hit keys, and my brain really has no control over what ends up in the document. So if you enjoyed the chapter, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **Translations:**

" **Je le savais** **." – "I know."**

" **D'accord** **" – "Alright"/"Okay"**

" **Mon ange** **" – "My angel"**

" **Il quoi?"** **– "He what?" (I'm iffy on that one, so feel free to correct it if you know what a better phrasing is!)**

" **C'est bien, amour. Il ne comprend pas.** **" – "It's alright, love. He doesn't understand."**

 **A hint for next chapter:**

"So that's the plan," Alfred finishes. "What do you think?"

Matthew looks at the paper of ideas and materials before he looks back up at his brother. "You really want to make this special, don't you?"


	2. Misunderstanding

_**Love?**_

 _Chapter 2: Misunderstanding_

" _I am insensitive. I have a tendency to pay more attention to the things that I need. Sometimes I drink too much. Sometimes I test your trust. Sometimes I don't know why you stay with me._

" _I'm hard to love, hard to love. No, I don't make it easy. I couldn't do it if I stood where you stood. I'm hard to love, hard to love. And you say that you need me. Well, I don't deserve it, but I love that you love me good."_

―" _Hard to Love" by Lee Brice_

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

Electric blue fire heats Francis's gaze. "Be grateful that he wants to give you this. Otherwise, you are not even worthy of it in the first place."

With that, Francis pushes past Arthur and storms down the hallway. A door slams shut a few moments later.

Leaving Alfred and Ivan to whatever conversation they need to have, Arthur jogs down the hall to his and Francis's shared room and knocks. "Francis?" When there's no reply, he opens the door. "I'm coming in."

The room is small, as it's one of over forty guest rooms in the house. The sunlight streams though the window and lights the figure in the bed, lying on his side with his back to his partner. Arthur closes the door and walks a couple of steps to the full-size bed. While he puts a knee on the mattress, he says, "Francis?"

"I am fine, _mon chéri_ _,_ " Francis replies.

"Are you? I haven't seen you so angry for decades, and even then, it was directed at me," Arthur says as he lies behind Francis, wrapping an arm around the other's waist.

After a long moment, Francis spits, "Your former colony is such an ignorant pig at times."

"Francis―"

"Do not tell me that I am overreacting," he continues. "I do not care what he says about me; I realize that most countries believe that I am a pervert, a rapist, or both, but I will not stand for him to treat _Russie_ 's struggle as child's play that only involves him."

Arthur doesn't say anything for a minute, but he lightly pulls at the ribbon holding Francis's hair back, waiting for it to come loose before he brushes it aside to kiss behind the Frenchman's ear. "I shall speak with him about it."

"You do not need to have my arguments, Arthur," Francis replies quietly as he relaxes in the other's hold. "Mh, but you should stay where you are until I say otherwise."

Arthur's lips turn up against Francis's neck. " _D'accord, mon roi_ _."_

"I am your king now? I think the British Royal Family may become jealous."

"They're different. You are only my king, no one else's. Always."

"Sappy does not suit you," Francis murmurs, but he tilts his head back against Arthur so that he can kiss the Briton's cheek.

"Is that a complaint?" Arthur teases.

" _Jamais, mon bel amour_ _._ _Tu es le roi de mon cœur aussi._ "

Meanwhile, in the kitchen―

"Great, now Artie's going to kill me later," Alfred mutters as he looks at his half-complete cake. Should he finish it? Francis seemed furious, but Alfred can't imagine such a prideful chef leaving a creation incomplete.

Ivan frowns. " _Fredka_ , you should apologize."

"Huh? Why me?" Alfred crosses his arms over his chest. "I didn't do anything."

"He has not done anything wrong. If you must blame someone, blame me, but do not be angry with France. He was trying to help," Ivan says while he strokes a rather upset Lapushka.

Alfred looks down at Lapushka. "Yeah, why did you tell him anyways? You want him to know that we had sex?"

" _Fredka_ , he has helped me through so much," Ivan says. "I did not think you would mind, but…I do not regret that I told him. I wanted his advice."

"Yeah, sex advice from the country of love―"

" _Nyet_ , I wanted advice from Francis Bonnefoy so that I can bottom without any mental complications."

Ivan actually sees that information click in Alfred's head; the American's face goes from irritated bordering on angry to surprise mixed with guilt. After a moment, Alfred says, "Oh…that's what he meant."

"Next time you do not fully understand what someone is saying, determine what it is before you yell at them. What you did was completely uncalled for," Ivan says.

Alfred shifts, feeling like a child scolded by a parent. Except he's not really concerned with Arthur chastising him, but Ivan is a little more important. "Sorry."

"Do not tell me; tell France."

Alfred feels a violet gaze on his back as he walks down the hallway with his head down. Definitely worse to have your partner mad at you than your parent.

When he knocks on the door, he hears a British accent rather than French. "Who is it?"

"Um, Alfred."

There's a pause.

"You may enter." This time, the accent is French.

Alfred opens the door, trying to remember how to pronounce the words in his mind. Once he can see the two on the bed, he bows. " _J-je suis_ _…siento._ "

On the bed, Arthur is flat on his back while Francis is propped up on one elbow. "You are what?"

"Bowing is Japanese," Arthur mutters, closing his eyes. "And I think you mixed French and Spanish."

"I did?" Alfred says, straightening. "Oh, um…I'm sorry then. Do I get brownie points for trying?"

"Brownie points?" Francis repeats with a furrowed brow.

"No, you do not," Arthur says.

Alfred gets the sneaking suspicion that Arthur is even angrier than Francis. "I'm sorry. It's not an excuse, but I didn't really…understand what you were getting at earlier. You know, with the whole Ivan wanting help and stuff. Sorry I snapped." When Francis continues to stare at him, he again says, "I'm sorry."

Francis sighs quietly and nods. "You are forgiven, but do not ask any favors."

"Oh, actually―"

"Belt up, you bloody wanker!" Arthur snaps, sitting up.

"Arthur―" Francis puts a hand on Arthur's chest, gentle but noticeably firm in case the Briton decides to punch Alfred.

"If I insulted Russia so badly that he locks himself up in his bedroom, would you want to hear me spew apologies and then ask for favors?" Arthur spits.

Alfred shakes his head slowly before he quietly excuses himself.

This whole best birthday ever thing isn't really starting off too well.

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

By the time Francis finally returns to the kitchen and finishes the cake, it's nearly six o'clock. Since the kitchen has been out of commission, pizza is ordered for dinner and the States are squished into the gigantic living room to watch a baseball game. Somewhere along the way, the States and a few of the Provinces start taking sides: Michael leading the group rooting for the Detroit Tigers and then Nathan with the New York Yankees supporters. Alfred refuses to pick a side, saying that he can't choose one son over the other, and Ivan is relatively confused since baseball isn't a common game in Russia, or at least not as common as in America.

However, the birthday boy does get a couch all to himself. Well, sort of. He's sitting in front of Ivan and in between the Russian's legs, leaning back against him while his feet are propped up in Matthew's lap. No one believes Alfred when he claims that his twin is pinching him.

Outside the house on the deck, Francis takes a sip from his wine glass before he sets in down on the table. Across from him, Gilbert pops open a beer while Antonio sits on the wooden deck railing and swings his legs.

"I don't understand how baseball and football are more popular than soccer in the United States," Gilbert says. "And why do they call it soccer here anyways? It's football. There's a foot and there's a ball. Soccer sounds like 'sock her', and doesn't that mean 'hit her'?"

"Is that your second or third beer?" Antonio asks.

"Uh, don't know." Gilbert laughs and looks at the bottle before he takes another swig. "It looks like the second, but it feels like the third. Tastes like the fourth!"

"But more importantly, it is the last," Francis says.

"I can hold my beer!"

" _Amigo_ , we are surrounded by teenage states and provinces," Antonio says. "If you strip, you might be arrested."

" _Oui_ , and I would not put it past _Mathieu_ to do such a thing," France adds.

Gilbert laughs again. "Yeah, baby, he can arrest me _any day_!"

France closes his eyes for a moment before he opens them again to find the wine bottle and pour himself another glass. "Stay sober, _oui_? I am counting on you that _Angleterre_ does not find this wine if I pass out, _Espagne_."

" _Vale, vale_." Antonio pauses. "You are not one to become intoxicated, Francis."

" _Amérique est un idiot._ " Francis stares at the wine in his hand blankly.

"What did he do? I heard him yelling this afternoon," Antonio says as he hops down from the railing and instead leans back against it with his arms stretched out on the wood behind him.

Francis shakes his head. "Personal business. He was ignorant, and I was…" He pauses to think of the correct word as his tongue tries to slip into his native language. "I was appalled."

"Is the Cold War couple having trouble in paradise?" Antonio asks.

"It is a little more complex than that, but _oui_." Francis drains the rest of the wine from his glass. "And what do you call me and _Angleterre_? Hundred Years' War couple?"

Antonio shrugs. "Too long. Old married couple is more accurate anyways."

"What if―" Gilbert begins as he holds up his beer bottle. "―the whole world is in a bottle?" He laughs, slapping the table. "In a bottle! So the beer's in a bottle, but we're in a bottle!"

Francis gives up on the elegance of the glass and starts drinking the wine straight from the bottle.

"Francis, do not be stupid," Antonio says.

"A friend is supposed to let the other be stupid."

"No, no, quite the opposite the last time I checked." Antonio pushes away from the railing and moves close enough to snatch away the wine bottle. Francis doesn't fight for it, but he glares at the Spaniard with barely any fire in his eyes. "There is a difference between drinking because it is fun to drink with friends―" He points to Gilbert. "―and drinking away your sorrows." He points to Francis. "So what is on your mind, _amigo_?"

" _Amérique et Russie_. That is all I will say."

"You know that I will not pry."

Francis sighs. "I believe that _Amérique_ 's ignorance may become a problem in his relationship with _Russie._ Of course, _Russie_ assures me that such a thing will not happen, but a person's patience and understanding only reaches a certain point."

"And then what? Is Russia going to beat him up or something?"

Francis is ready to say no, but then he settles for a shrug. Flashbacks aren't very good at insuring safety.

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

"So that's the plan," Alfred finishes. "What do you think?"

Matthew looks at the paper of ideas and materials before he looks back up at his brother. "You really want to make this special, don't you?"

"Well, yeah! I mean, there's some other stuff that I can't talk about, but it's important that Ivan likes it."

"Does this other stuff involve why you and Papa fought this afternoon?"

Alfred leans back against his truck. It's big and dark blue, practically his baby, and it's the only vehicle that gets to stay in the garage. He asked Matthew for his opinion on the plan and for some help with getting all the things he needs into the bed of said truck. "Kind of, yeah, but I already apologized and everything. Artie's still really mad though, even worse than France was."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

Matthew gives him an even look.

"I just misunderstood what France was talking about and got kind of…mad, I guess. I said that he shouldn't be putting his nose in my business, but he was trying to help Ivan."

"You and your Puritan roots," Matthew mutters.

Alfred doesn't reply as he continues to load up the truck.

"How far is the drive?" Matthew asks.

"Only a few hours." Alfred pauses after he situates a bin. "Do you think he'll like it?"

"Al, I think he'll love it. Well, maybe not the lack of electricity and no plumbing, but he's lived through those times longer than you."

Before Alfred can reply, he hears, "Ah, there you are." Arthur appears in the garage's entryway. "Are you going somewhere?"

Alfred slowly nods. "Yeah, the day after tomorrow."

Arthur looks at the other brother. "Matthew, will you give us a few minutes?"

"Sure. I'll be in the living room if you need me." With that, the Canadian disappears through the door into the house.

Alfred decides to busy himself with his current task, and while he looks through a bin to make sure everything is there, he asks, "Do you need something?"

There's a pause, but Alfred doesn't turn around.

"Francis refuses to tell me what that argument was about in detail, but I've got a pretty good idea. He says that he wants me to speak with you," Arthur says.

Alfred scowls. "I really don't want to talk about it. It's private stuff between me and Ivan―"

"I know that; I won't have you to talk about it. But the only thing I can think of that Francis would want me to speak with you about is having sex with someone who has been raped."

"I said it's none of your business," Alfred bites.

Arthur stares at the American for a long moment. Then he says, "Be that as it may―and I've not any desire to even look at you right now―I doubt you understand just how hard the whole process is."

"What would you know?"

"Far more than I would like to."

That makes Alfred stop short. "O-oh."

Arthur sighs. "Francis honestly wants to everyone around him happy and loved. That's the only reason I agreed to speak with you at all."

"Uh, thanks, I think."

"Hm." Arthur crosses his arms over his chest. "It may not work out the first time. It might not matter what you do to help him feel safe, because he could have flashbacks, a panic attack, or start vomiting, among other things, and you need to be patient. That's the main thing. He may have triggers that he's unaware of, so he may suddenly become scared or angry."

Alfred tries to process all of this as the Briton says it. "Triggers?"

"It could be anything that makes him recoil. Touching a certain part of his body, pulling his hair, or a particular phrase." Arthur pauses. "Foreplay is extremely important, and you should probably let him lead. Talk to him, and make sure that you don't surprise him at all when you touch him."

Alfred nods. Then he glances down at his hands. "What if he does have a panic attack?"

"Obviously, stop whatever you're doing, no matter how hard that is, and don't be angry or frustrated with him. Make sure he knows that everything is alright and that if he wants to wait a little longer, that's fine."

"Yeah, okay," Alfred says. "Is it really that hard? Having sex after…you know."

Arthur nods. "Of course it is."

"But it still…feels good, right? I mean, for him?"

"Most of the obstacles are mental, so he'll still feel the same pleasure physically; it's just a matter of getting there."

Alfred nods and falls silent. He returns to packing up his supplies while emerald eyes watch him, and he feels them boring into his back.

After a minute, Arthur says, "I hope it goes well, Alfred."

"Thanks." Alfred pauses. "The favor I was going to ask for earlier…if it helps, I want France to keep talking to Ivan."

Arthur nods. "I shall pass on that knowledge."

 **Author Note: Okay, yeah, nothing really happened in this chapter. I know. I'm awful. Like I stated in the first part, there's no plot, so whatever happens just sort of happens for no particular reason. Stay tuned for more plot-less fluff and angst! If you can't wait for the next chapter, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **A hint for next chapter:**

Matthew holds his breath to quiet himself, but after a few moments, he chokes on his sobs again. Two hands fall on his back. One is small and soft but firm, and the other is larger, perfectly manicured and rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. There's no mix of the two. Not a big hand with calluses and a little extra chub. No "Mattie". No Alfred.

 **Translations**

 _ **Spanish:**_

" **Vale" – "Alright"**

 _ **French:**_

" **Mon chéri** **" – "My darling"**

" **D'accord, mon roi** **." – "Of course, my king."**

" **Jamais, mon bel amour** **.** **Tu es le roi de mon cœur aussi.** **" – "Never, my beautiful love. You are the king of my heart as well."**

" **Amérique est un idiot** **." – "America is an idiot."**

 _ **Other**_ **:**

" **Belt up, you bloody wanker!" – "Shut up, you stupid idiot!" (For those of you who are like me and don't know British slang.)**

" **Je suis** **siento." – "Je** **suis désolé** **" is French for "I'm sorry" while the Spanish equivalent is "Lo siento".**


	3. Scream

_**Love?**_

 _Chapter 3: Scream_

" _I don't know, I don't know, I don't know anymore. Thought I had, thought I had it under control. Hear my voice, here it goes, hear it louder than most. Here it goes, here it―one, two, three, four! It's not worth it. It's not working. You wanted it to be picture perfect. It's not over; you don't have to throw it away. So―_

" _Scream if you wanna. Shout if you need. Just let it go. Take it out on me. Fight if you need to. Smash if it helps you get control. Take it out on me."_

―" _Take It Out on Me" by Thousand Foot Krutch_

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

"Even for you, this is kind of early to go to bed, isn't it?" Alfred says as he closes his bedroom door. The clock only reads nine o'clock.

Ivan hums, sounding half-asleep, while Lapushka glances up from his spot on his owner's hip. "Jet lag."

Alfred nods as he strips off his shirt and starts on his pants. "Yeah, it sucks. But on the good side, you should be able to take a shower early in the morning without any competition for hot water."

"Are you implying that I stink?" Ivan asks, still not moving.

"No, but didn't you take a shower every day when I was at your house?"

"A habit."

Alfred pulls on a pair of athletic shorts before he crawls into bed. When he lies behind Ivan, the Russian tilts his head back into the other. "Hm, you do not need to sleep now, _myshka_."

Lapushka mews his agreement.

"I'll probably get on my laptop once you fall asleep." Alfred loops an arm over Ivan's waist, and Lapushka proceeds to turn around and lay on it. "What did you feed Lapushka earlier anyways? He didn't eat the pizza, did he?"

" _Nyet_ , I found tuna in the cabinet. I did not think you would mind."

"Yeah, I don't care." Alfred leaves a trail of kisses from Ivan's shoulder to his neck, but when his lips meet metal, he pauses. "Is this the same chain? It looks shorter."

Ivan sighs, but he doesn't complain about the American's ramblings. "I replaced it. This one is stainless steel and is much shorter with a clasp. I also had a clear coat added to the charm."

"Why?" Alfred asks.

"Now there is no need to take it off in the shower, and it does not become tangled due to its length."

"You like it that much?"

" _Da_ , I told you when I opened it. It is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received, and I will cherish it forever."

Alfred smiles against the other's neck. "Awesome."

"Now, _Fredka_ , go to sleep."

"Thought you said I didn't have to go to sleep yet?"

"But I am sleepy and need rest. Whatever you wish to do, I ask that you please be quiet about it." Ivan turns his head just enough to kiss Alfred on the cheek. " _Spokoynoy nochi, myshka_."

Assuming that means good night, Alfred murmurs, "Night, sunflower."

Lapushka mews.

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

When Alfred wakes up, he feels a warm weight on his face. Said weight is also vibrating, and when Alfred breathes in, fluff tickles his nose.

"Ivan, get your cat off me," Alfred mutters.

"But why? Lapushka must think your face is very comfortable." Ivan says something in Russian, and the furball moves.

When Alfred can see again, he stretches and yawns. "Good morn―"

He's cut off by lips on his own. It's an innocent kiss, short and sweet, but his head feels light when Ivan pulls away. " _Da,_ good morning. Happy birthday, _Fredka_."

"Thank you," Alfred murmurs before he gives the Russian a peck on the cheek.

"Oh, and someone left a gift for you about an hour ago." Ivan points to a box on the nightstand.

"Who was it?" Alfred asks as he sits up and reaches over his partner for the gift.

Ivan shrugs. "Someone knocked, but when I opened the door, no one was there and the box was left."

Alfred flips open the card and reads aloud, "Open with your boyfriend. Have fun."

The box has a small latch on it, and Alfred clicks it open. It opens like a chest, presenting several different colors, and Ivan furrows his brow for a moment and leans forward to get a better look, but Alfred slams it shut with dark pink painting his cheeks. Ivan frowns. "What is it? Do you not like it?"

Alfred opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

" _Fredka_?"

"Nothing! It's nothing!"

Ivan pauses. Then he leans closer until his lips are at Alfred's ear. "Is it something naughty?" His teeth nip at Alfred's earlobe, and the American audibly swallows. "I am quite sure that there is something we could use."

Alfred nods. "Um, y-yeah…p-probably."

"Do you want to try them?" Ivan whispers, placing his free hand on Alfred's chest and letting it drift down slowly―

"Dad, breakfast is ready!" a masculine voice says through the door. "Uncle Matt made pancakes."

Alfred clears his throat as Ivan pulls away. "Alright, we'll be down in a few minutes. Thanks, Aaron."

"No problem."

There's an awkward moment of silence before Ivan asks, "When will we have the house to ourselves?"

Alfred smiles. "Not the house, but we're taking a road trip tomorrow."

"A road trip?" Ivan repeats. "We will be driving?"

"Just a few hours south. I already have it all planned out. Uh, there's not going to be any plumbing or electricity though―save for an outhouse, if that counts."

Ivan seems confused. "Alright, but why?"

"Camping."

"Is where one sleeps in tents and cooks food over a fire, _da_?"

"Yeah. You've never been camping before?"

" _Nyet_."

Alfred kisses his cheek and takes his hand, entwining their fingers. "I have property in Northern Virginia that's great for camping. It's nearly a mile from the main road, and even then, it's just a small town. I think you'll like it."

"It sounds very nice. And it will be warm?"

"Yep, probably pretty hot actually. There's not supposed to be any rain though."

Ivan smiles knowingly and returns the kiss. "It sounds perfect, _Fredka_."

"Great."

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

As it turns out, there are two parts of the celebration. In the morning and afternoon, the States and Provinces are involved with the pancakes and gigantic birthday cake. It takes place outside in the yard that is partially the deck and swimming pool, and there's a mix of different types of music and sports.

The evening part is only for the countries. This is the part that takes place in the foyer and living room with a set playlist and games. There are also a few cookies and sweets laid out on a side table.

The night starts out slow. Most everyone is sitting in the living room, drinking the punch Matthew made and many spiking their glasses with one of the many types of liquor. Berwald sits in an armchair with his usual deadpan expression, even with Tino on his lap. All the while, Lovino continuously slaps away Antonio's arm around his shoulders, but he doesn't move to a different seat. Kiku quietly converses with England, and Matthew and Ivan sit on a couch with Alfred between them. Ludwig tries to keep Gilbert from taking shots while Feliciano asks to try Ludwig's drink because it smells different. Unfortunately, Gilbert is already tipsy, though Francis and Antonio don't seem worried about it in the slightest.

The song ends and the music changes to the next, a slightly more hip hop beat beginning to pour through the speakers, "Feisty" by Jhameel. Alfred and Matthew both chuckle as it hits the chorus. _"'Cause baby, oh my―well, it's unfair. Looking like that, make a gentleman stare."_

"And we all know who the gentleman is staring at," Antonio says.

Ironically enough, Arthur has been staring at Francis's butt as the other sways his hips to the music and pours himself a drink. However, when the Spaniard makes his comment, Arthur takes a sip of his drink and mutters, "I haven't the slightest idea what you are implying."

"I do not understand why you stare," Francis says, returning to his seat beside Arthur. "I am yours as it is."

"Keep it PG," Tino laughs.

"Says the one in Sweden's lap," Gilbert says. "We can bump it up to R!"

"No!" Ludwig, Arthur, and Lovino say in unison, but Alfred's voice is the loudest.

"We are all adults here," Matthew says.

"Mattie, don't encourage them!" Alfred protests.

"Speaking of R ratings, will we be playing the couples' game again? I very much liked it last year," Antonio says.

Matthew nods. "Yeah, I have the questions on my phone. Japan, will you keep score?"

Kiku smiles and bows his head. " _Hai_ , I will."

"What about my awesomeness? I must have a job as amazing as me!" Gilbert says.

"Try not to get drunk," Ludwig mutters.

They split up into two teams. On one side, there's Alfred, Francis, Berwald, Lovino, and Feliciano, and the other, Ivan, Arthur, Tino, Antonio, and Ludwig.

"So I ask one group a question about their partners. For each one they get right, they get a point," Matthew says.

Ivan frowns. "How does one prevent cheating?"

The Canadian shrugs. "Honor code." Then he pulls out his phone and taps away for a moment. "Alright, we'll start off easy. Team one, what is your partner's favorite color?"

Francis immediately answers, "Red."

Arthur nods. "Correct."

"Blue," Berwald says, and Tino gives a thumbs up.

"Red," Lovino says after a moment.

Antonio grins. " _¡Sí!"_

After a moment, Feliciano says, "Black?"

Ludwig shakes his head. "Red as well." When Feliciano deflates, Ludwig quickly adds, "I like black, too! It is not my favorite though."

And that leaves Alfred. Should he choose red, white, or blue? Flag colors tend to be favorites, but then he pauses. "Uh, yellow?"

Ivan's face lights up. _"Da!"_

"Four points to team one," Kiku says.

Matthew continues, "Team two, what is your partner's favorite kind of music?"

"Country," Ivan blurts. Alfred laughs and nods.

"Fast-paced dance music," Arthur says.

" _Oui_."

"Classical," Antonio says, and Lovino nods, though he seems rather unhappy about it.

Ludwig pauses. "Gospel."

" _Amore_ , you know me so well!" Feliciano says, which makes Ludwig blush.

"Um, either jazz or folk music," Tino says. "So…jazz?"

Sweden shakes his head. "Folk music."

Tino sighs.

Kiku's pencil moves over his paper. "Four to four."

"Team one, what is your partner's favorite movie?"

"The _Harry Potter_ series," Francis says, and Arthur nods.

" _The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly_ ," Feliciano says.

Ludwig smiles the slightest bit. "That is correct."

Lovino grumbles, " _Titanic_."

"Lovi, you do pay attention to me!"

"Shut it, you stupid Spaniard!"

" _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ ," Berwald says with a straight face, and Tino nods.

And then there's Alfred, who says, " _Alvin and the Chipmunks_?"

The room quiets, all except for Gilbert, who starts laughing hysterically.

Ivan shakes his head. "I do not have a favorite. However, that is a very good movie."

"Really, Russia? You like kids' movies?" Feliciano asks before Lovino can shut him up.

" _Da_ , if they are funny." Ivan smiles. " _Fredka_ has introduced me to many great films that I enjoyed very much." No one says anything for a long moment, and Ivan's smile fades. "Is that odd?"

Arthur hesitates. "Not odd, but it was unexpected."

"Maybe we should watch one later tonight," Tino suggests.

Matthew shrugs. "If Al wants to, why not?"

Alfred grins. "Yeah, let's do it!"

The questions became increasingly harder with things like favorite foods and favorite songs to history and culture. And once again, Francis and Arthur got every question correct.

While the dancing part of the night begins with slow music, Matthew slips through the kitchen to grab a wine cooler and then walks out onto the deck. The sun is still out, but it's setting, and the sky is bleeding reds and golds. With the States and Provinces all out on their annual nighttime hike, the yard and pool are both barren and empty. Matthew pops the lid on his wine cooler and takes a sip.

"There you are, Birdie."

Matthew turns to find Gilbert coming out of the house.

"I normally don't do this, but you know, awesomeness needs a dance partner. Then I looked for you, and you'd disappeared," Gilbert continues as he leans on the railing beside Matthew.

Scoffing, Matthew takes another sip of his drink. "Francis has better pickup lines than you do."

A hand appears on the small of Matthew's back. "Maybe you could teach me a few that would work on you then?"

"Tell me, Prussia, do you know the difference between the words 'move' and 'remove'?"

" _Ja_."

"Then I suggest you move your hand away from my body or I will _re_ move it from yours." Matthew smiles when Gilbert jerks his hand back. "Good boy."

"Anything you want, baby. I can be good or bad, but I always get naughty."

"Alright, lay off or leave. I don't have the patience to deal with you today," Matthew mutters.

Gilbert opens his mouth, but then he snaps it shut again.

"And I'm not going to dance or sleep with you, so if that's all you're after, you're wasting your time."

Silence settles over them. Matthew wonders why Gilbert is still there. The Prussian doesn't make any more comments, pickup lines or otherwise, but instead, he sips on a cup of punch, probably spiked.

"You're not going to drink any punch? You made it, _ja_?" Gilbert asks.

Matthew glances at the other out of the corner of his eye before he focuses on the forest. "Needed something stronger."

"Add something."

"Not really my thing. I'm picky about my drinks."

"But you like wine coolers?"

"And White Russians. That's the extent of it."

"What about white Prussians?"

Matthew sighs and pushes away from the railing, moving towards the door, but a hand catches his elbow.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Gilbert lets go, though Matthew doesn't move. "Please, don't leave." There's a long pause, and the albino looks to the side. "I'll stop, I promise."

"And I should take the word of a half-drunk pervert?"

Gilbert shrugs. "Probably not. I just thought you would, I guess. So much in common."

"What gave you that idea?"

"It's your first time seeing America with Russia, _ja_?"

"Yes, why?"

"Sucks, doesn't it? Your brother fawning over someone else when you used to be best friends?" Gilbert turns back around and downs the rest of his punch. "Despite what most of everyone thinks, I'm not an idiot and I'm as human as our kind can be, dissolved or not. I've been to America's birthday parties for the past decade, and I've watched the two of you laugh and have fun. When you're together, you act like you're joined at the hip." He leans on the railing, tapping the toe of his boot against the deck's wooden paneling. "You're passive-aggressive, aren't you?"

Matthew crosses his arms over his chest, and his violet eyes darken just the slightest bit more. "How so?"

"America complained about you pinching him yesterday. The whole 'I'm not that innocent' comment. You haven't been laughing or smiling as much as you usually do."

"Bravo."

"And you're more sarcastic."

Matthew takes another swig from his bottle. "I'm fine. You don't know me."

"I know that you feel like you're losing your brother to his boyfriend."

"Alfred is my twin, and his relationship with Russia will never change that."

"Funny. That what I always told myself. Ludwig is my little brother; he would never trade me for Italy." Gilbert laughs dryly. "Then Prussia was dissolved, and I became the representation of East Germany. The Soviet Union was awful, and I hated every day I was under his rule, but I kept thinking to myself that I would stay strong for Ludwig, that I would find him again. And _ja_ , he missed me, but he had Italy. He didn't need me anymore."

Matthew shakes his head, roughly setting his bottle on the deck table. "Al's my best friend and my twin; _nothing_ is stronger than that!"

"Really? How many times has he spoken to you since you got here? How many of those times involved Russia?" Gilbert asks as he turns around to face the fuming Canadian. But no amount of anger can hide the tears in those violet eyes.

"He still talks to me!" Matthew yells.

"Today? How many times today?"

"Plenty!"

"And what was it that you two do every year?" Gilbert asks. "A drive to Niagara Falls? That would usually be tomorrow, _ja_?"

Matthew sniffs once, and then it's over. He drops to his knees, holding his head in his hands as he screams, "It's once! Just once!"

" _Mathieu_?"

"Matthew, are you alright?"

Matthew holds his breath to quiet himself, but after a few moments, he chokes on his sobs again. Two hands fall on his back. One is small and soft but firm, and the other is larger, perfectly manicured and rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. There's no mix of the two. Not a big hand with calluses and a little extra chub. No "Mattie". No Alfred.

Francis pulls the shaking Canadian into his lap, holding him while he glares at Gilbert. "What did you do to _Mathieu_?"

Gilbert doesn't say anything, but he shakes his head. It's not a look of guilt; it's one of understanding. Between his hiccups and sobs, Matthew says that it's nothing, that he's fine.

Francis curtly tells his friend and his partner to leave them.

While Matthew clings to him and cries, Francis lets French slip freely off his tongue. "It's alright, Matthew. Let it out."

There's a short moment of calm. It's sudden, unnerving even, and Matthew's breaths even out, his sobs quieting. And then he screams. His hands clutch at Francis's shirt, and tears tickle his cheeks. When he runs out of breath, he pants and chokes, sniffling because he knows there's probably snot on Francis's neck. "P-Papa…."

"I'm here, Matthew. Papa's here," Francis murmurs as he strokes the Canadian's hair.

Matthew quiets again, and Francis waits for another explosion, but it never comes. Everything is quiet. Even as he shudders and sniffles, Matthew hardly makes a sound. He doesn't like to be loud or attention-seeking. That's Alfred's job. He's content to be the quiet, calm one, because if he isn't, people notice him. And the three people that matter, they always notice him. They always, always notice him. Always noticed him….

Matthew eventually lets go of Francis's shirt, but he continues to lean against the other. His breaths are ragged from congestion, and he can't see clearly because of the tears that still gather and fall from his eyes. "Am I not good enough?"

"Matthew―"

"Arthur took me away from you, and I thought it was okay because you were at his house almost as much as your own, but…but why did you choose Guadalupe over me?"

"Matthew, I can't dictate what my people do. You know that." Francis sighs and squeezes the other more tightly.

After a moment, Matthew closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Don't tell Alfred about this."

Francis pauses. "Is that what this is all about?"

"Of course not." Matthew pulls away from the other, smiling and pulling off his glasses to rub his eyes. "But you know what a worrier he is. I just want to make sure that he has a good birthday, and if I'm upset, he'll be upset." He slips his glasses back on. "Then it's not going to be any fun, is it?"

"You really think I'm going to fall for that? Or that America will?" Francis asks, standing and brushing himself off while Matthew does the same.

"I think that Alfred will believe what he wants to believe, so there's the answer to your second question. As for you, you're going to say that you're always there for me and tell me that I _should_ get this worked out." Matthew picks up his half-full wine cooler and drains it.

"And what are you going to do?" Francis asks.

Matthew shrugs. "Well, I don't know exactly. I should be pretty drunk after two or three more of these―" He wiggles the empty bottle. "―and I hear that alcohol is an amazing aphrodisiac. Maybe I'll change out a White Russian for a white Prussian."

"Matthew―"

"I should only give my body to someone I love." Matthew nods. "Won't remember it in the morning, so who cares?"

Francis grabs the other's wrist. "No. Matthew, don't do this, whatever 'this' is. Just...let's stay out here, alright? We can have something to drink, maybe swim, and we can play that association game you like so much. Remember? The one where we say the first thing that comes to our minds?" There's desperation in those blue orbs. "Please. Matthew, _please_."

"I'm not a child anymore, Francis. Leave me alone." Matthew jerks his hand out of Francis's grip.

 **Author Note: What am I doing? I seriously just made myself cry and went four hundred words over my limit, but I guess you all are happy about that. And I don't even ship Canada with Prussia, but hey, it's going somewhere I guess. Maybe something lighter next chapter? If you can't wait for said next chapter, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **Also, just to throw this out there, I think that Matthew and Alfred have different birthdays even though they're twins because they were formed as countries differently and at separate times, if that makes sense. Hence why they aren't celebrating Matthew's birthday with Alfred's. I think he prefers his birthday to be more private, you know?**

 **A hint for next chapter:**

The clock reads eleven; Matthew normally would have been out of bed over an hour ago. And not only that, but he's naked, irritable, hurt, and still reeling from his argument with Francis last night. That is, that argument is the last thing he clearly remembers. In a thick fog, he remembers talking to Alfred at one point, though not what was said, and pictures of Gilbert in various positions.


	4. Collar

_**Love?**_

 _Chapter 4: Collar_

" _Time is the only thing that keeps passing by, crumbling this world in a matter of seconds. Coating over this twisted scenery, I don't want the truth; a lie is just fine. I was somehow left behind. A colorless world; a world I've dreamed about. Even throwing away this rotten fruit, I can't do it alone. I want you by my side so much."_

―" _Torinoko City"/"Left Behind City" by Miku Hatsune [English Translation]_

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

"Did you hear that?" Ivan asks over the music. The couples in the room are dancing to a middle-paced country song that Ivan doesn't recognize.

Alfred frowns. "Hear what?" He pauses. "I don't hear anything."

Ivan shakes his head. "Never mind."

When the dance songs start, Alfred is more than happy to teach Ivan how to do the "Macarena", "Cha Cha Slide", "Cupid Shuffle", and "Cotton-Eye Joe".

At the beginning of the "Cha Cha Slide", Matthew appears beside Alfred, and as it turns out, both twins have no sense of left and right. It's actually rather funny to see the two of them together since Ivan doesn't see that very often, but Matthew seems different. Ivan assumes he's just tipsy, and Alfred doesn't mention it.

Overall, Ivan finds himself laughing and smiling through the entire thing.

After the dancing, Alfred gives Ivan a kiss on the cheek and says, "I'm going to run to the bathroom. Think about the movie you want to watch, okay?"

"It's your birthday; you should pick."

"Nope. You pick."

Ivan sighs, but he moves to the movie rack that Alfred pointed out earlier. Francis is the only one who notices that Alfred turns right down the hallway, towards the kitchen rather than the bathroom.

In said kitchen, Matthew pulls another wine cooler out of the refrigerator.

"Mattie, are you drunk?" Alfred asks, snatching the bottle out of his brother's hand.

"Give that back!" Matthew reaches for it, but Alfred holds it away, and they repeat this a few times. "It's mine!"

"How many will this be?"

"Three! No, four." Matthew stops and counts on his fingers. "How many comes in a pack? That was the last one."

" _Six_? You've drank six of these?!"

"No, five. Nearly six. Give it back!"

Alfred sets the bottle in the fridge and stands guard in front of it so that his brother can't retrieve the alcohol. "You're cut off, Mattie. No more booze for you tonight."

"Don't call me that."

Blue eyes widen behind glasses. "W-what?"

"Mattie. Don't call me Mattie." Matthew crosses his arms over his chest, but then he wobbles and has to put his hands down on the table to steady himself. "I'm not a little kid anymore."

Alfred frowns, but nods. "Um, yeah, okay. If that's what you want, Matt."

Matthew doesn't reply. He doesn't say that it's not what he wants but what he thinks Alfred wants. If the other can't say "Mattie" when Matthew actually needs it, what's the point?

The rest of the night goes by in a slight blur for Alfred. Ivan picks out _How to Train Your Dragon_ to watch, which no one complains about, but Tino and Berwald haven't seen it before and both seem slightly offended by the characterization of Vikings. Alfred himself isn't sure which he finds cuter: Ivan bursting about how adorable Toothless is or Lapushka nuzzling his owner every time in a seeming fit of jealousy.

But sometime during the movie, Matthew disappears from his seat in the back of the room, as does Gilbert. Francis says that Matthew probably went to bed early, but Alfred knows by the other's conflicted and hurt expression that he's lying through his teeth.

Upstairs, Gilbert lands on his back with a grunt, bouncing slightly on the mattress.

In front of him, Matthew kneels on the edge of the bed and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing smooth skin with very few scars. Gilbert lowers his gaze and wonders when the bottom portion will come off.

"Are you going to regret this in the morning?" Gilbert asks. "I don't usually get involved with that."

"Most definitely." Matthew tilts his head back and drags his hand down his neck and chest. When his fingertips brush his jeans, he pulls at the waistband teasingly.

Gilbert groans deep in his throat. "Never mind. I don't care." He curses under his breath. "Where'd you learn to be this sexy?"

"I got it from my daddy," Matthew replies before he leans forward. His lips ghost over the other's ear. "And besides that, I am the second largest country. I've never left anyone unsatisfied."

At that, Gilbert says, "Who said you're on top? I'm too awesome to take it."

Matthew chuckles, and it's too breathy to be anything but arousing. "I say. And I know the way you look at me, so you're either going to take it or get nothing. Entirely your choice." His teeth graze the shell of Gilbert's ear. "I hope you like it rough."

" _Yes_ ," Gilbert moans.

"Then let's get started, shall we?" Matthew whispers.

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

"Prussia's an imbecile, but you really think he's dumb enough to sleep with Matthew when he's obviously not thinking clearly?" Arthur asks as Francis paces in the kitchen.

" _Non_ , I think that _Mathieu_ inherited my abilities to seduce even a rock."

"You could not possibly seduce a rock."

"I seduced you, _non_?"

Arthur ignores the comment. "So they have sex. What's the harm in that? Matthew is young; it happens."

"I did not raise him to do such things." Francis leans against the countertop with his back to his partner. "I always told him that he should never, under any circumstance, give his body to someone that he does not love. Sex is meant to be something to enhance emotions and intimacy, not a way to forget the world around you."

"If you aren't going to do anything about it, what is the purpose in worrying?" Arthur asks.

Francis doesn't reply.

Upstairs―

"You are upset. Why?" Ivan asks as he washes Lapushka in the sink.

Alfred runs a bath pouf over his soapy skin and keeps his gaze away from the person on the other side of the glass door. "I'm fine."

"You are correct, _Fredka_. 'I am fine' is a very irritating response."

"Payback."

A few moments later, Alfred hears the shower door open, along with a rush of cold air that makes him shiver, and the other showerhead comes on. Trying to be subtle, Alfred lowers his water temperature, but at the giggling behind him, he knows Ivan saw it.

"But truly, what is bothering you?" Ivan asks as he wets his hair.

Alfred faces the wall, holding the bath pouf under his chin. "Matthew. He got drunk and told me not to call him Mattie. Then he just disappeared during the movie."

"Has he been acting differently lately?"

Alfred shrugs. "I don't think so. I mean, I haven't talked to him as much as I usually do, but we still hang out. We went swimming this afternoon when you stayed up here, and then I talked to him yesterday. It's not like I've been ignoring him or anything."

Ivan pauses. "But you two are twins, _da_?"

"Yeah."

"And I am the first person you have been in a relationship with?"

"Yeah."

"So maybe he is jealous."

Alfred scoffs. "Ivan, he's not jealous. That's ridiculous."

"Human emotions often are."

"But still." When Ivan doesn't say anything, Alfred continues, "Why would he be jealous? I still spend time with him, and I include him in stuff."

"I wonder if _Matvey_ may think it is as ridiculous as you do. He may tell himself that he should not be jealous and upsets himself."

Alfred sighs. "I'll talk to him tomorrow."

" _Da_ , I do not wish for you to be sad. If we have to wait so that you can settle everything with _Matvey_ ―"

"No, it's not that big of a deal."

"―that would be fine," Ivan finishes. "I am not as important as your family."

"Dude, yeah, you are."

"I should not be."

Alfred opens his mouth, but then he closes it again.

After a moment, hands appear on his shoulders and work out the tension that lies there. "Maybe one day, our relationship will be that strong, but right now, it should not be. Your family and friends come first."

"Yeah, I know." Alfred sighs again. "How can you give that kind of advice? I mean, no offense, but you don't really have those kind of relationships, right?"

"And it is because of my lack of them that I want you to cherish yours all the more."

Alfred nods. "Yeah, okay…thanks, I guess."

" _Da_."

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

When Matthew wakes up, he wants to curl up in a ball and die. His head is pounding, and Gilbert is asleep on the other side of the bed, snoring even worse than Alfred sleeping upright.

And then, there's a knock on the door, followed by a hesitant, "Matthew? You alive?"

The clock reads eleven; he normally would have been out of bed over an hour ago. And not only that, but he's naked, irritable, hurt, and still reeling from his argument with Francis last night. That is, that argument is the last thing he clearly remembers. In a thick fog, he remembers talking to Alfred at one point, though not what was said, and pictures of Gilbert in various positions.

"Yeah, just a second!" Matthew calls, summoning thoughts of maple syrup to make his voice sound decently normal while he stumbles out of bed to pull on a pair of sweatpants. He doesn't even bother with a shirt.

On the other side of the door, Alfred smiles when he sees his twin, though he must see the figure in the bed and scowls, but he quickly regains his composure. "Hey, Matt."

The hungover Canadian furrows his brow. "'Matt'?"

"You don't remember anything from last night?"

Matthew shakes his head.

"You told me to stop calling you Mattie, so―"

"Forget that. I wasn't thinking," Matthew says, forcing a smile. "Sorry, I don't really remember much of anything."

Alfred pauses. "Uh, do you remember how _he_ got in your bed?"

"Somewhat," Matthew replies before he steps out of the room and closes the door. "Don't worry about it. So was there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Dude, you haven't really been, you know, _you_ recently. I just wanted to make sure that everything's alright."

"Everything's fine, Al. Really, there's nothing wrong."

"Why'd you drink so much last night then?"

"I just got a little carried away."

"And France was all upset, too."

"He has this philosophy on only having sex with people you love. I think I probably disappointed him."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"He's not my guardian anymore."

"Right."

They stare at each other for a moment. Then Matthew raises an eyebrow at the other. "If that's it, I'm going back to bed. I have a really bad headache."

Matthew moves to open the door, but Alfred grabs his wrist. "Mattie, wait." When he turns, Alfred continues, "Look…you and me, we're always going to be brothers. Nothing can change that. Even if I hang out with Ivan a little bit more, you're still my best friend. Always."

"Al, that's touching and all, but I'm fine. Seriously, you and Ivan need to go and have fun. Have your special night." Matthew smiles.

"You're sure you're okay? You're not jealous of Ivan?"

"No, I'm not. So go. You have a road trip, don't you?"

Alfred grins. "Thanks, Mattie. I'll call you when we get there so you know we didn't get eaten or anything."

"You do that. Now go!" Matthew teases.

"Okay, I'm going!"

A few minutes later, Alfred feels a little uneasy, like he missed something. He replays the conversation in his mind, but he can't think of anything off about it. Maybe he's just paranoid.

Once Alfred disappears around the corner, Matthew drops the smile and turns back into his bedroom, where Gilbert is sitting up.

"What time is it?" the Prussian grumbles as he stretches.

"A little after eleven," Matthew replies as he lies down again, his back to the other. He just wants to sleep.

Then there's something pressed against his back, and an arm loops around his waist. Matthew pauses, opening his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Sharing my awesomeness with the underprivileged."

"You think I'm underprivileged? What gives you that idea?"

"My awesome is a different breed of awesome," Gilbert says, though his voice doesn't hold its usual confidence.

After a moment, Matthew rolls over, propping himself up on his elbows. The other still has his arm over the Canadian's waist and doesn't show any signs of removing it, but that's not what Matthew is looking at. It's the tiniest bit of pink of Gilbert's cheeks. "That's what it is, isn't it?"

"What? My breed of awesome? Are you admitting that―?"

"No, I mean the reason you spew out pickup lines uncontrollably." Matthew feels a smirk pulling at his lips. "I make you nervous."

"That's crazy, little Birdie," Gilbert says, but the color in his cheeks darkens.

"Prove me wrong then."

Gilbert opens his mouth, but no sound leaves.

"Don't hurt yourself."

"And why aren't you normally this sarcastic?" Gilbert asks. "I'm getting a reaction, aren't I?"

"I'm in a bad mood, and most people don't notice when I'm sarcastic."

"I can cure your bad mood, _ja_?"

Matthew smiles. " _Nein_."

"No need to get personal. Besides, we already had sex once; would one more time really hurt?"

"I was drunk the last time."

Gilbert pulls the other closer by the waist. " _Ja_? So you're not usually that wild?"

"I never said that."

Gilbert laughs quietly as he leans closer to Matthew's lips until their noses bump. Then he whispers, "Prove me wrong then."

"Hm, I never would have guessed you have such masochist tendencies."

"Masochist? Hardly."

"Could have fooled me."

"You're not a sadist. Just…untamed."

"And you're domesticated?"

After Matthew says it, Gilbert is straddling him, pinning his hands above his head. With a smirk, the albino says, "Let's play a game. See who can tame who first."

Matthew laughs, and it's something so different from the usually innocent boy that Gilbert shivers. "Loser has to wear a collar for the rest of the day."

"Deal. You have a collar?"

"Al had a dog at one point, and I know where he has a few extras."

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

" _Bruder_ , what on Earth are you wearing?!" Ludwig bursts when Gilbert appears at the pool wearing a Speedo, love bites, and a black dog collar.

Feliciano smiles. "Oh, Canada must love body paint!"

"Feliciano!" Ludwig and Lovino both burst while Antonio laughs.

Francis narrows his eyes, but says nothing as Arthur rubs circles into his back. The jets and temperature of the hot tub help as well, or at least, they do until Matthew sinks down into the water with them as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

"It is not healthy," Francis mutters before he closes his eyes and leans back against the wall of the hot tub.

"Neither is a hot tub to someone over sixty-five, but since when are nations concerned with such things?" Matthew replies.

Arthur sees Francis's jaw clench out of the corner of his eye, and he says, "Both of you, calm down. I have seen you two more upset in the past three days than I have in the last several decades."

After a moment, Matthew mutters, "Sorry."

" _Je suis désolé, mon ange_ ," Francis says.

 **Author Note: So a short chapter to make up for the last one being so long. Matthew and Gilbert are so out of character, I know, but I think it's an interesting dynamic. Maybe? Tell me if you agree. And next chapter, I think you all can guess what happens! If you're excited, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **Translations:**

" **Je suis désolé, mon ange** **." – "I'm sorry, my angel."**

 **A hint for next chapter:**

Ivan smiles and before Alfred knows the Russian has moved, he's enveloped in a tight embrace, but he can breathe at least. "Thank you so much, _Fredka_."

"You're welcome." Alfred returns the hug, his nose in Ivan's scarf. "I want this to be perfect and special. We don't have to do everything, but―"

" _Nyet_ , I want to do this. All of it."


	5. Nervous

_**Love?**_

 _Chapter 5: Nervous_

" _Let's slip on out where it's a little bit darker. And when it gets a little bit hotter, we'll take it off on out in the water._

" _Girl, you make my speakers go boom-boom, dancing on the tailgate in the full moon. That kind of thing makes a man go mh-hm. You're looking so good in what's left of those blue jeans. Drip of honey on the money maker. Gotta be the best buzz I'm ever gonna find. Hey, I'm a little drunk on you and high on summer time."_

―" _Drunk on You" by Luka Bryan_

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

"I do not understand why we must stop for these…" Ivan looks at the bags of junk food and bottles of soda. "…snacks. And I use that term very loosely."

Alfred laughs and hops back up into the drivers' seat. More like lunges, in Ivan's opinion, and the Russian has to use the hand grips to get into the vehicle as well. The thing is huge, and far enough off the ground that he thinks there should be a step.

"Ivan, you're uncultured in American tradition. Road trip means there has to be snacks," Alfred says as he starts the engine.

"What is the difference between a road trip and a long drive?"

"Road trips are more fun!"

Ivan furrows his brow. "How so? Long drives cannot be fun?"

"Dude, a long drive is like, if I was with Artie, France, and Mattie."

"So a long drive with family?"

"France is _not_ family. And no, it's the stuff you have to do, you know? Work and that sort of thing, too. But road trips are like, the things you really want to do. So driving out of town for vacation or going to visit a friend out of town―"

"Or camping with your lover?" Ivan supplies.

Alfred makes a face. "Partner, yeah."

"You do not like to be called my lover?"

"Not in the way you're thinking of it. Lover sounds so…Romeo and Juliet, you know? Or France and Artie. One time flings and off-and-on kind of stuff."

"And you want to be more than that?" Ivan asks.

"Well…yeah. Don't you?" Alfred merges onto the main road and glances at Ivan for a brief moment before he looks back at the pavement.

" _Da_ , very much so. I just wanted you to say it."

"So you're a closet romantic?"

"No more than I know you are." Ivan giggles. Alfred used to think that it would be weird to think of a man giggling, but knowing that Ivan can't make the deep chuckles happen easily, he doesn't mind. He certainly doesn't think of it as effeminate. If Ivan can survive being chained and choked so long that his vocal chords are damaged that badly, he's anything but that.

"Speaking of romantic, grab the container behind the seat," Alfred says.

Ivan "somehow" knows exactly which box he is referring to. The box of chocolates that appeared on the counter this morning with Alfred's name on them, right next to Francis's roses. Francis took it upon himself to put them in a vase this year since Alfred knows who sends them, and when Alfred found them, Francis winked suggestively at him. A small sunflower also sat in the vase with the roses.

"Are these the chocolates you get every year?" Ivan asks, opening the box, and Alfred has to give him credit; if he didn't already know who made them, he would never suspect the Russian.

Alfred smiles and nods. "I just thought it would be nice to share them with the cook."

Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred sees Ivan open his mouth, but he apparently rethinks his words for a moment. "France told you?"

"Not on purpose. I thanked him for the flowers―I couldn't just let him keep doing that and not say thank you―and he thought I already knew that you made the chocolate, so he made a few comments about it."

"I see."

Alfred smiles. "They really are good, sunflower."

Another quiet giggle. "I am glad you enjoy them. Now open."

With a laugh, Alfred opens his mouth, and Ivan pops one of the little chocolates inside before he nibbles on one himself.

After he finishes the chocolate, which takes around a minute because he has to savor it properly, Alfred says, "I can't believe you make those yourself. They're the best I've ever had."

"You flatter me, _Fredka_ ," Ivan replies.

"I'm not. They're incredible, and I don't bring out my big words unless I have a reason to."

Ivan giggles again, and this time it's quieter. For a moment, Alfred worries that the other is upset or irritated for some reason, but when he glances at Ivan, there's a faint blush dusting the Russian's usually pale cheeks.

"You're so cute when you're embarrassed."

"Hush!" Ivan says, and it's all but a whisper.

"And what's up with that anyways? You never get this worked up when we're making out or anything like that, but compliments make you blush like a maiden?" Alfred teases, and since he's determined not to wreck the car, he reaches over the armrest to take Ivan's hand in his instead of continuing to look at the other.

"You are so cruel, _myshka_!" Ivan says with more breath forcing the words out than voice. "I make and feed chocolate to you, and you tease me this way!"

"It's fun though! And you're so cute," Alfred says.

"I-I am not cute," Ivan grumbles. "You said it yourself; men are not cute."

Alfred laughs. "I'll make an exception for you. Besides, not just any guy can be cute by my standards."

"Was that your attempt at a compliment? It was not appreciated."

"What? It should be!"

" _Nyet_ , it should not!" But Ivan is laughing quietly.

Alfred rubs his thumb over Ivan's knuckles. "So what makes your voice do that? Anger, being upset, and embarrassment. Seems like a weird combination."

Ivan shrugs. "I do not know. I assume it is related to the amount of air I exhale when I speak, though I did not know that being…flustered would have such an effect."

"Maybe I should call you cute more often."

"And I will call you sexy more often."

Alfred's face is on fire in an instant. "Okay, point taken. Not in public."

" _Da_ , and now you are the cute one, _Fredka_."

Alfred groans, but he doesn't push it. Just because they aren't dancing with guns and knives hidden away, that doesn't mean that they aren't dancing still. But this kind of dancing…Alfred likes it, even when he loses. Not that Ivan will ever hear that. No way.

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

"It is beautiful, _Fredka_."

"So you like it then?"

" _Da_ , very much so."

The clearing is rather small, but there's plenty of room for a tent and everything else. There's fire pit near the bank, and an outhouse sits in the forest not too terribly far away. The truck is parked at the end of the gravel road, which is easily half a mile from the nearest back road, so the only noise is the sound of the creek and some birds.

Ivan smiles and before Alfred knows the Russian has moved, he's enveloped in a tight embrace, but he can breathe at least. "Thank you so much, _Fredka_."

"You're welcome." Alfred returns the hug, his nose in Ivan's scarf. "I want this to be perfect and special. We don't have to do everything, but―"

" _Nyet_ , I want to do this. All of it."

"Ivan, I do, too. Seriously. But we're not going to do anything you're uncomfortable with, and it's okay if we don't cross that bridge this time. Come on, we're countries; we have time. So let's take it slow, okay?"

Ivan nods, his arms tightening around the other. " _Da_."

In the next hour, Alfred spends his time teaching Ivan how to set up a tent, and it falls over no less than three times before it is complete. It's a medium-sized tent, only big enough for the air mattress and their small bags, but it's big enough, going by the smile of Ivan's face.

After they finish setting up the necessities, they strip down to their underwear and hop into the creek. Or, well―

"I told you not to jump in like that. The water is much too shallow," Ivan says as he looks down at his groaning partner, who is now sitting on the creek bed, the water just barely over his waist.

"Find out for yourself!"

Ivan suddenly finds himself on his sore rear, landing with a splash and an "oof!". Of course, Alfred thinks it's the funniest thing ever apparently because he laughs and clutches his sides. Ivan runs his fingers along the smooth pebbles of the creek bed and wonders how painful it would be to toss one at the American, but he settles with splashing the other instead. The action is reciprocated in kind, and like most competitions the two have, it ends with kissing.

The chilled water is wonderful relief from the heat, especially to Ivan, and when he pulls Alfred into his lap, he sighs contently as Alfred's cooled chest is pressed to his. But before he can revel in it too long or even lick the other's lips, Alfred pulls back. "We have to wait. I'm too pent up to make out."

Ivan catches the connotation in the sentence and nods.

Dinner consists of "hillbilly cooking", as Alfred says. This involves sitting on logs, naturally drying in front of the fire, with hotdogs skewered on sticks. In Ivan's opinion, it's a rather nice little dinner. Until dessert.

Alfred sighs as Ivan's third marshmallow catches fire. "Dude, there's a method. You have to keep it just close enough that it browns, and when it starts to smoke the tiniest bit, it's done."

Ivan furrows his brow and finds another marshmallow. "But would it not be easier to put it in the fire and wait for it to smoke?"

"No, then it's ash on the outside and still raw in the middle."

"Show me your technique then, oh wise one."

"You've listened to Arthur too much," Alfred mutters as he pulls back his perfectly cooked marshmallow. "See? That's a yummy marshmallow, ready to be put on a s'more."

"I still do not what that is."

"Watch and learn."

With that, Alfred balances his graham cracker on his thigh, along with a piece of chocolate, and mashes the marshmallow between that and another graham. "Tada!"

Ivan's eyes sparkle the slightest bit with curiosity.

"Here. Try it." Alfred hands the s'more over.

"And I just bite it? Is there a technique?" Ivan asks, eyeing the creation skeptically.

"Dude, you're overthinking it way too much."

So Ivan bites the corner. And then he makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and a squeak, pulling away with several little strands of melted marshmallow connecting his lips to the s'more while he tries to lick it away. To Alfred, he looks like Lapushka when the cat accidently licks Ivan's hair and tries to get it out of his mouth.

"Do you like it?" Alfred asks.

Ivan nods, even though he's still struggling quite a bit.

Alfred ends up roasting two more marshmallows for the Russian, who insists that he can roast them just as well but is too lazy to. It's such an obvious lie that Alfred laughs at him. But the American still works extra hard on the marshmallows for his partner.

Once they eat and clean up, the sun has checked out of work and the nightshift begins under the moon. While Ivan uses the outhouse, Alfred spreads out a huge sleeping bag on the grass between the tent and creek. If one looks straight up, there's a clear view of the night sky, not obstructed by tree branches. Alfred also has a small, battery-powered fan that he sets up since the night is still over seventy degrees.

"I like it," Ivan says as he returns, sitting on the sleeping bag.

"Good. I thought if it was too uncomfortable we could drag out the air mattress―"

" _Nyet_ , this is perfect."

There's an awkward pause.

Ivan clears his throat. "I think I will call France and ask if Lapushka is alright. He is likely very unhappy about my absence."

"Yeah, okay. Cool," Alfred says. "While you're doing that, maybe I'll call Artie and see if Mattie's feeling better."

And with that, the two split up. Alfred moves to the truck while Ivan walks to the darkness of the forest.

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

Francis's teeth graze Arthur's pulse point, and the Englishman tilts his head back against the pillows, more than happy to oblige his partner's marking tendencies―

When Arthur's phone starts blaring "American Idiot", they both sigh.

When Francis's phone goes off with "Unravel"―the French cover, of course―they pause before reaching for their respective devices.

"Ah, _Russie_ , I did not expect a call from you tonight," Francis says into his phone as he adjusts his collar and hair before he slips out of the room and into the hallway.

"D-da _, I do not mean to bother you, but…I feel very nervous and flustered, and I do not know how to properly take care of it."_

Francis searches for a quiet place in the house, and eventually ends up outside by the pool. "You said that the two of you have already slept together once. The second time should not be any different as far as nervousness is concerned, _non_?"

" _That was not planned, and we did not talk about it beforehand. And it was not nearly as difficult."_

"You will be nervous. It is part of the whole experience," Francis says with a small smile. "And it will be awkward, regardless of your obstacles. You need to sit down with _Amérique_ and discuss boundaries and everything that goes along with it before anything happens between you two."

" _And after that?"_

"It will be difficult, but I have already told you that. If you sleep together and are able to overcome the more obvious problems, then you will accidently tickle each other. Clothes will be caught on body parts. There will be awkward noises. It is something that will happen, so make the best of it. Remember that everything you do together is more than physical pleasure, and it will be easy to laugh and move on."

There's a pause on the other line. _"Thank you, France._ "

" _Oui_ , _de rien, Russie_ _._ "

Meanwhile, Arthur sits on the edge of the bed and asks, "Problems in paradise?"

" _Dude, it's so not funny! Like the awkward levels are through the roof and I don't know how to fix it!"_

"Calm down, Alfred. It'll be just fine."

" _That's not helping!"_

"What would you have me tell you then?"

" _What did you do to make it not so awkward between you and France?"_

Arthur pauses. "Well, we had to talk about it. If I remember correctly, we sat down and went over what would be allowed and not, lubricant, whether or not we would use a condom―"

" _Too much information!"_

"Do you want my advice or do you not? Make up your mind, you bloody Yank!"

" _Okay, okay, fine. So that…stuff. But did any of it actually work?"_

"Not the first time, no."

" _Why not?"_

"Because I pulled his hair. He punched me in the jaw and then proceeded to vomit."

" _Oh."_

"That may or may not happen with Russia; it's something that you two must work out on your own. He may become violent, have a panic attack, or just become so scared that he starts crying. The best thing you can do is be patient."

" _Yeah, okay."_ There's another pause. _"Is it normal to be nervous? I mean, I'm not nervous or anything like that, but maybe if Ivan is and that's why―"_

"Yes, it's perfectly normal to be nervous." Arthur rolls his eyes, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it's more out of fondness and annoyance. He'll never admit such a thing, of course.

 **Author Note: Super short chapter, but I want to leave the next part for the next chapter since it's probably going to be too long to add to this one. Anyways, if you can't wait to read what happens next, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **A hint for next chapter:**

Alfred leans forward, now on his hands and knees over his partner, who looks up at him calmly. Much more calmly than Alfred thinks is fair in this situation.

" _Fredka_."

"Yeah?"

Ivan giggles and reaches up, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck. "Are you going to kiss me or stall all night?"


	6. Together

**WARNING! This is the chapter that earned the M rating! I think you could skip this chapter if you wanted to and still keep up with the story, though I would advise reading the last three sentences.**

 _ **Love?**_

 _Chapter 6: Together_

" _I've been dying inside, little by little. Nowhere to go, but going out of my mind in endless circles. Running from myself until you gave me a reason for standing still._

" _It's falling faster, barely breathing. Give me something to believe in. Tell me it's not all in my head. Take what's left of this man; make me whole once again._

"' _Cause I want you. And I feel you, crawling underneath my skin like a hunger, like a burning to find a place I've never been. Now I'm broken and I'm faded. I'm half the man I thought I would be. But you can have what's left of me."_

―" _What's Left of Me" by Nick Lachey_

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

" _Fredka_ , not that it bothers me, but why are we in your truck?" Ivan asks after a minute of silence. After their phone calls, Alfred told him to get dressed and get in the truck, but they haven't gone anywhere, just sat in the vehicle with the air conditioning on.

"Condoms!" Alfred blurts. Then he turns red and begins to stutter incoherently.

Ivan giggles the slightest bit. "Alright, calm down. I understand what you mean."

"Oh, thank the Lord," Alfred mutters under his breath before he clears his throat. "I brought the…box that we got on my birthday, so I figured we'd use the lube in it, but I mean…I'm clean and we didn't use a condom the last time…so yeah."

Ivan pauses, seeming to put much more thought into it than Alfred thinks is necessary. After a long moment, the Russian says, "I do not want to use one, but…I do not know if it might trigger me."

"A condom can trigger you?" Alfred asks, rather confused.

Ivan nods slowly, and Alfred sees his hand slip under his scarf in a fist, likely holding his necklace. " _They_ never used condoms, you see, so I do not know if the feeling would give me flashbacks."

"Well, if you don't want to use one, we can keep them nearby in case you change your mind, okay?"

" _Da_."

Alfred pauses. "What about boundaries?"

"I myself am not aware of how my body will react to another's touch in that position," Ivan says slowly before his cheeks color slightly. "I have…touched myself a few times…in those places, but never with anyone in particular in mind."

Alfred has to literally pinch his arm so that his mind doesn't wander to the images that now flood his mind.

Ivan continues, "I should not have any problems with kissing, but I ask that anywhere you touch, you touch very lightly at first before adding pressure. I do not want to be treated as if I am broken, but I know that it may have to be that way the first time."

"Okay, I can do that. Just make sure that you tell me what I'm doing right and wrong," Alfred says.

" _Da_." Ivan pauses in thought for a moment, trying to remember what Francis told him. "We must go very slowly, and I think it will be best if I lead your hands to new areas."

Alfred nods.

"And if I have flashbacks, we will have to wait a few minutes, I would think."

"Yeah, and if you have a panic attack, I fixed up the backseat, so you can stay in here."

Ivan frowns for a moment before he glances behind him. Sure enough, the seats have been pulled up, and the floorboard is covered in a few pillows and blankets. He smiles. "Thank you, _Fredka_."

"It's no biggie." Alfred leans forward and presses a kiss to the Russian's cheek. "Anything else?"

Ivan shakes his head. "I do not think so."

Alfred turns off the truck, and once they both are out of the vehicle, Alfred takes Ivan's hand in his and leads him to the sleeping bag laid out in the grass. Kicking off his sandals, the American sits down and waits for Ivan to step out of his boots a little more gracefully.

"Would it be easier if you straddle me?" Alfred asks as Ivan lies down in front of him.

After a moment, the Russian shakes his head. " _Nyet_ , I want to be in this position."

"Okay, if that's what you want."

Alfred leans forward, now on his hands and knees over his partner, who looks up at him calmly. Much more calmly than Alfred thinks is fair in this situation.

" _Fredka_."

"Yeah?"

Ivan giggles and reaches up, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck. "Are you going to kiss me or stall all night?"

When Alfred finally rests his weight on the other, their lips meet gently and carefully. But Ivan continues to remind him that he's not as fragile as Alfred thinks, one arm holding their chests flush together and the other hand stilling the American's head while Ivan moves his lips more forcefully against Alfred's.

 _I am not broken_ , Alfred hears in his head as their tongues slide together.

So he pushes back. He doesn't let Ivan explore his mouth freely without earning it in a dominance battle, and then that tongue is evading his, making him chase and press harder like the first time they kissed.

When they break apart, Ivan pants slightly, but Alfred immediately goes to work on his jaw, kissing and lightly nipping. While he does this, he feels large hands moving down his body and pulling at his t-shirt, and in less than a second, the shirt is discarded. Only then does Ivan unwind his scarf from around his neck. He sets it aside with much more care than Alfred used on his shirt before he leans back again and tilts his head, baring his neck.

"This is okay?" Alfred murmurs against the scarred flesh before he kisses lightly.

"Mh, _da_. Very sensitive." Ivan exhales slowly. "If I want you to stop and cannot find words, I will tap, _da_?"

"Alright."

After Alfred leaves several hickeys on Ivan's neck, the Russian sits up just enough to pull his shirt off. Once he lies back down, he takes Alfred's free hand and lays it on his stomach.

 _Light touches_ , Alfred reminds himself before he starts to trace Ivan's scars with his fingertips. He feels shivers run through Ivan's body and he pauses.

"I like it," Ivan murmurs, his own hands resting on Alfred's back. "Is new, that is all."

Alfred glances up to make sure Ivan is telling the truth, and the Russian is watching Alfred's hand, though the way he is craning his neck doesn't look too comfortable. Pulling away for a moment, Alfred reaches for their shirts, balling them up into a makeshift pillow for Ivan's head.

Ivan seems to relax a little. And it's as new to Alfred as it is to Ivan; he usually only touches the scars on Ivan's back, not his front, and as he slowly escalates from dancing fingertips to exploring hands, he finds that Ivan is just as sensitive here as his neck. Enough so that within a few minutes, his breathing is much heavier and his body is flushed, and one of his hands threads into Alfred's hair. " _Fredka_ , your mouth. Mh, please?"

Alfred is more than happy to oblige, and he starts with the X-shaped scar on Ivan's collarbone. First, a kiss right in the center before he trails his tongue through the dip in the pale skin, and Ivan whimpers, "Good. Mh… _good_ , _Fredka_."

He gives every scar the same attention, tracing it with his tongue while his hands massage Ivan's waist with slow circles. All the while, Ivan pants and whispers encouragements.

When Alfred brushes his lips against one of Ivan's nipples, there's a gasp, followed by Ivan arching into the sensation. Alfred darts his tongue out and licks at the little bud, and then everything stops. The arms on his back slacken, the heavy breathing becomes shallow, and the legs that were previously working their way up to wrapping around his waist, they just fall open.

"Ivan?" Alfred pulls away. "You okay?"

Ivan's eyes are half-lidded, the violet blank and staring ahead, and tears have gathered in the corners.

Alfred opens his mouth to say something, but then he closes it and opts to shake his partner's shoulder. _Panic attacks don't work like this, right? Is he having a flashback then? Artie didn't say he would just check out on me!_

"Ivan!"

Ivan jolts, blinking for a moment, but before Alfred can say anything, he rolls onto his side and curls in on himself. Alfred sees his breaths become more rapid.

"Are you having a panic attack?" Alfred asks as he hastily pulls away.

Ivan shakes his head quickly.

"Flashbacks?"

Nodding, Ivan reaches for him, and Alfred moves closer, lying on his side. Violet eyes are wide, but they stare at the American, even as Ivan continues to hyperventilate. A hand finds his and crushes it in a tight grip, followed by a short and quiet, "Talk."

"Talk?" Alfred repeats. He stares at the other for a moment, at the pleading eyes full of tears. "Talk about what? You're hyperventilating and I'm freaking out, and you want me to talk about the weather?"

Ivan nods.

"Okay, clear sky. No rain in the forecast. It's…ten o'clock maybe? The squirrels and deer probably think humans can't reproduce properly."

Ivan smiles, and his breathing slows. It's a slow process, involving Alfred talking about crayfish and the time he taught Arthur how to catch them without getting pinched.

"Thank you," Ivan murmurs, still taking deep breaths.

Alfred shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have―"

" _Nyet_ , it is not your fault. I did not know that my nipples would trigger me," Ivan says. "It should be easy to avoid from now onward, _da_?"

"You want to keep going?" Alfred asks in disbelief.

"Of course."

"Are you sure? We don't have to―"

"Alfred, I want to," Ivan interrupts, and his voice doesn't leave any room for argument. As Alfred wipes away the tears from Ivan's cheeks, the Russian continues, "Unless you do not wish to."

"I want to," Alfred says. His brain supplies the image of Ivan flushed and panting under him, and other parts of him want to continue with their previous activities as well.

So Alfred scoots closer, pressing his chest to Ivan's and lets his hand trail over the other's side and then back. "Is this good?"

" _Da_ , very good," Ivan replies, wrapping Alfred in his arms as well before he relaxes against the American.

Once Ivan has calmed down mentally and is heating back up, they move to their previous position. Alfred is sure to avoid Ivan's nipples as he kisses a trail down to the other's navel, but only lingers there for a moment before he moves further up to a shallow bullet scar. His neck brushes the tent in Ivan's sweatpants, and he knows the gasp that follows is from more than his tongue.

When Alfred makes his way back up to Ivan's lips, he feels hands on his hips, pulling lightly at the waistband, and he groans into the kiss and rolls his hips forward into Ivan's. The Russian returns the noise in kind as he pushes the fabric down, though he leaves Alfred's underwear in place, much to the American's disappointment. When Ivan can't do anything more, Alfred pulls away to get the offending garment off of him. Then his lips are on Ivan's again, even more eager than before, but he doesn't do anything more than move his tongue and continue touching Ivan's most sensitive scars.

But when those hands return to his hips, pushing down slightly, he can't keep his pelvis from grinding down into the one below him.

Ivan breaks the kiss with a gasp.

Alfred moves his lips to the Russian's neck, finding another place to mark him while Ivan crosses his ankles behind Alfred's thighs. That's when Alfred realizes that the moans and gasps are a little too ragged. When he pulls away enough to look at his partner, Ivan has his eyes closed. His expression is one of ecstasy, his hips roll upwards into Alfred's, and his mouth is open so that every sound escapes. But his eyes seem a little too red, and tears fall down his cheeks.

Alfred forces himself to stop, even as Ivan continues to grind up into him, and the other opens his eyes, the violet orbs wet with tears and full of confusion. "Why did you stop?"

"You're crying," Alfred says, and as if to prove his point, he wipes away a tear that escaped from the corner of Ivan's eye when he opened them.

Ivan seems even more confused by this and reaches up to rub at one of his eyes. "Am I?" Then he frowns. "Why am I crying?"

"That's what I want to know," Alfred says. "Am I hurting you?"

Ivan shakes his head. " _Nyet_ , it feels good."

"Are you upset?"

"Not that I am aware of."

Alfred blinks for a moment, thinking about the connotation of that sentence. "You wouldn't know if you were upset."

"Well, I am not having a panic attack," Ivan states.

"I can see that." Alfred wonders if it's normal to have a therapy session in the middle of sex. "But what do you feel?"

Ivan furrows his brow. "Pleasure."

"Anything else?"

At that, Ivan bites his lip and looks away, and Alfred immediately presses, "Tell me, Ivan."

"It is nothing―"

"It's not nothing," Alfred says.

"Even so, I can handle it."

Alfred shakes his head. "This isn't going to work if you don't tell me. Communication is important, remember? So tell me, and we can work though it together."

Ivan doesn't respond for a long moment. Then he seems to focus on something in the forest. "I do not understand what it is that I am feeling. There is pleasure; do not think that I am not enjoying this. But there is something else as well, and I do not know what to call it." He pauses, one of his hands moving to grasp the sunflower charm that has fallen to one side of his neck. "It is as if I am scared, but I am not, and my chest hurts. I want your touch, but I want you to pull away. And I feel as if you will hate me for wanting you so much."

Alfred blinks again. "Ivan, I won't hate you, regardless of whether we have sex or not."

"I know. It confuses me," Ivan murmurs.

"Do you think it's shame?" Alfred asks, though it's hard to name emotions in the first place and even more so when he's trying to process that someone like Ivan could be ashamed of anything, especially something he never had any control over.

Ivan shrugs. "I do not know, but I do not like it."

"Do you want to stop?" And Alfred has to force the question because as much as he wants Ivan to feel comfortable and safe, he also can't ignore the throb in his nether regions.

Ivan shakes his head. " _Nyet_ , continue. Please, _Fredka_."

"Alright."

That's easier said than done though. Alfred can't help but feel guilty when Ivan has tears slipping down his cheeks, even though the Russian assures him that everything is alright, but Alfred is confident that Ivan will tell him if he needs to stop.

Apparently, Ivan has never experienced oral sex, which Alfred thinks he should have expected, but nevertheless, it surprises him. Ivan seems confused as to why someone would enjoy performing the act and is all but horrified when Alfred offers to do it to him, but after five minutes of explaining how nice is it to see one's partner turn into putty and to give that kind of pleasure, Ivan relents and allows Alfred to do as he pleases. And ten minutes after that, Ivan is glad Alfred convinced him, even if he's not ready to return the favor.

However, after far more preparation than is usually necessary for penetration, Ivan has a panic attack.

Alfred spends thirty minutes worried out of his mind after Ivan locks himself in the truck. When Ivan finally does return, it's more than a little awkward, but Ivan insists that he'll be okay and agrees that if he has another attack, they'll stop and try again at a different time.

But it happens. Alfred can see that it's painful in more ways than one for Ivan, and even though it's somewhat awkward for the American, they hold eye contact for the first minute of adjusting. This is particularly helpful when Alfred notices that Ivan is checking out again, but Alfred pulls him back before it becomes too serious.

For Ivan, he has difficulty comprehending that beyond the pain and inner turmoil, this feels _good_. Wonderful and amazing, and the tears that spill from his eyes aren't just from shame and guilt now. No, it's because he can remember how awful and horrible it was when his body was used without his consent, and this is the most intimate thing he has ever felt, even more so than when he took Alfred. He just wants it to last forever. Despite all the pain and fear it took to get here, he's so happy that he still tried and succeeded because now he can share this with Alfred.

And as Ivan shudders and pulls Alfred as close as physically possible, he whispers, " _Ya tebya lyublyu, Fredka_."

It pushes Alfred over the edge, and that's when his brain starts to realize what Ivan just said. It's a burst of knowledge that makes his head hurt, but it stirs up something he can't name in his heart.

As they lay together in their afterglow, Alfred starts repeating the words in his head.

" _Ya tebya lyublyu, Fredka."_

" _I love you, Alfred."_

 **Author Note: Well, I hope everyone enjoyed Ivan's journey from trauma to intimacy. This chapter is not about porn, but about a survivor's struggle to overcome their obstacles. And just as a disclaimer, I have not experienced anything like this, so if the portrayal is not as realistic as it should be, I apologize. Other than that, if you liked the chapter, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **I'm sorry for the late update! I was in the car all day yesterday coming home from vacation, and by all day, I mean nine in the morning to midnight, so I didn't have time to post. Sorry !**

 **A hint for next chapter:**

Matthew's brow furrows. "Niagara trip?"

"Dude, did you seriously forget about it? I thought it was your favorite part of my birthday!"

"No, no, I didn't forget," Matthew says, looking down at his lap and shrugging. "I just thought…I mean, we normally go on the fifth, and you took Russia to Virginia, so _―_ "

"So you thought we weren't going?" Alfred frowns in confusion. "Why wouldn't we go? I didn't think it would be a big deal if we moved it a few days later."


	7. Attachments

_**Love?**_

 _Chapter 7: Attachments_

" _I don't think that passenger seat has ever looked this good to me. He's tells me about his night, and I count the colors in his eyes. He'll never fall in love, he swears as he runs his fingers through his hair. I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong. And I don't think it ever crossed his mind. He tells a joke; I fake a smile. But I know all his favorite songs._

" _And I could tell you his favorite color's green. He likes to argue. Born on the seventeenth. His sister's beautiful. He has his father's eyes. And if you asked me if I loved him, I'd lie."_

―" _I'd Lie" by Taylor Swift_

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

When Alfred blinks open his eyes, the sun is bright overhead, likely the reason he woke up in the first place. He's still on the sleeping bag from last night, and he's stiff and sore from lying on the ground all night, not to mention sticky. However, the place beside him is empty.

Alfred sits up, rubbing his eyes and glancing around. It doesn't take long to find Ivan.

The Russian is sitting in the creek, his back to Alfred, and judging from the bottles on the shoreline and the ministrations of his hands in his hair, is shampooing.

"Getting ready for someone?" Alfred teases as he stands and moves to the water.

"Just waiting," Ivan replies without turning his head. "He has a tendency to sleep into the early afternoon hours."

Alfred steps into the creek. "Who are you talking about, sunflower?" He sinks down next to the other. "I don't know anyone like that."

"Of course not."

There's a quick good morning kiss before Ivan leans back into the water to rinse his hair. Alfred is tempted to tickle the other, but he decides against it and splashes some water onto his chest and arms to rid himself of the dry layer of sweat on his skin. The water is warm, almost like bathwater, and it's something that Alfred loved when he was a child.

"You seem awfully happy this morning," Ivan says as he sits up again. "Should I worry for your mental health?"

Alfred realizes that he's smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Laughing, he shakes his head. "No, just remembering some stuff. And you know, you being here doesn't really bring me down that much either."

"The pleasure is all mine," Ivan replies.

Alfred smiles and looks down at the water, flowing around the two of them. "When Mattie and I were little, Mama used to take us all over the United States and Canada, so in the winter, we would be in Florida, Texas, New Mexico, and the lower States, and then during the summer, we would be up in Canada or the northern States. We loved taking baths, but I was always rowdy and splashing around while Mattie would be quiet and do as he was told. Well, that was the case most of the time, but whatever."

Ivan splashes water up onto his partner, washing his back. "It is not hard to imagine. If you do not mind my asking, who was your mother? You have never told me."

"Native America," Alfred replies. "I don't remember a whole lot about her, but she took care of me and Mattie for centuries before the settlers came. Then she just…disappeared."

"I thought you said that your people killed her?" Ivan asks, recalling their conversation about the American Civil War.

"If America had never been colonized, she would still be here. I mean…it's one of those things that I can't change now and wouldn't have been able to change then, but sometimes it's really infuriating that she had to die, disappear, whatever, so that Mattie and I could grow up," Alfred says. After a moment, he adds, "I guess you could say it's a king. To me, at least."

Ivan smiles sadly and kisses the other's cheek. "Everyone has kings, _Fredka_."

"Yeah, but you've got your feline master to serve," Alfred says.

" _Da_ , Lapushka is my good king. Who is yours?"

"A good king?" Alfred asks. "Would it be bad if I said you? Too soon?"

Ivan shrugs. "I do not mind, though I thought you would say someone else."

"Who?"

" _Matvey_."

Alfred pauses. "I mean, Mattie's important, but I don't know if I would serve him."

"It is not about serving. It is about caring about someone or something so much that you would do anything for them so that they would be happy."

Alfred thinks of Matthew for a moment, of how the other has acted the past several days. "Is it still considered a good king if it's unhealthy?"

"That is a question you must answer yourself," Ivan says.

Alfred opens his mouth, but then there's a loud ringing. Frowning, Ivan stands from the water. "Who would call me this early?"

"Guess you should find out."

Ivan shrugs and moves to the pile of clothing next to the sleeping bag, digging through it until he finds his cellphone. Clicking it on, he lifts the device to his ear. "France?"

"Oui _, it is._ " Before Ivan can ask anything, France continues, _"I do not wish to bother you and_ Amérique _on your vacation, but your feline is currently throwing a tantrum."_

Alfred actually sees Ivan's entire demeanor change from confused to worried in a split second, and the American stands from the water as well, moving closer to figure out what is bothering his partner. A call from France can mean a wide array of things.

Ivan asks, "Lapushka? What is wrong? Is he hurt?"

"Non _, but I believe he misses his owner. He has sat in_ Amérique _'s bedroom and cried for nearly an hour now."_

"Have you tried to calm him?"

"Oui _, but he will not eat, and he tried to bite_ Angleterre _when he attempted to pet him."_

Ivan frowns further. "He is not a violent cat. Are you sure that he was not trying to play?"

" _He was growling and hissing. I do not think he wants to play."_

"Alright," Ivan says. He glances at Alfred with an apologetic expression. "I will try to be there as soon as I can."

"Oui _."_

When Ivan closes the phone, Alfred asks, "What's wrong with Lapushka?"

"I believe he misses me," Ivan replies with a sigh. "I am sorry that we could not stay tonight as well."

Alfred shrugs. "Me, too, but your cat needs you."

They both pause at how ridiculous that sounds, but they don't say anything. Within two hours, they're on the road towards home, listening to country music and laughing.

Ivan yawns quietly about two hours away from the house, covering it behind one hand.

"Ya could take a nap," Alfred says, his voice long since changed from singing along to the country songs. "We ain't gonna be home for another couple hours."

"I do not want to change my sleeping pattern…" Ivan says before he yawns again.

"Jet lag 'n' sex do that. Don't worry 'bout it."

Ivan chuckles, but he doesn't protest as Alfred turns down the volume.

With only Ivan's slow breathing and the low music to distract him, Alfred can't help but think about what he pushed to the back of mind this morning. About the words Ivan said last night. Does the Russian even remember saying it? Alfred thinks that saying "I love you" at the end of sex is generally the euphoria talking and therefore shouldn't be taken seriously, but then again, this whole trip has been more than what Alfred ever considered doing for a partner. No matter how many times he thinks about it, he realizes time and time again that what happened last night was love making, not just sex, and then that just spins him for another loop.

Does he love Ivan?

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

"Where is Lapushka?" Those are the first words that Ivan says when the door is open, and luckily, Arthur and Francis are in the living room.

Francis opens his mouth, but he's cut off by a wail. A very feline wail that somehow echoes through the huge house, and then Lapushka is running down the stairs as quickly as his little paws can carry him. Alfred, Arthur, and Francis watch as Ivan drops to his knees and scoops up the ball of fluff into his arms.

"I'm sorry, baby," Ivan coos, nuzzling the purring cat. "My sweet, sweet, little baby. Yeah, I know. I know. You must have been so lonely."

Lapushka cries his sorrows again.

Meanwhile, Alfred stands with his mouth open. Number one, he can understand Russian. Number two, has Ivan always been saying such things to Lapushka?

Alfred feels Russian slip off his tongue just as easily as English. "You really are attached to that cat."

Ivan freezes like a kid who was dancing in his room when his parents walked in. "You can understand Russian now."

"Yep."

"Oh."

"Don't let me get in the way. Continue."

Ivan's cheeks flush red, but he tries to hide it in Lapushka's fur. Then he stands, and when he speaks, his voice is much quieter. "Lapushka and I will be in your bedroom if you need us." Most of his face is hidden by cat fluff, but his eyes peek out from the furry forest, glancing at Alfred. "Don't tell anyone please."

"Wasn't planning on it," Alfred replies with a smile.

Once Ivan disappears upstairs, Alfred turns to the couple on the couch, not questioning why Francis is smirking and Arthur seems more irritated than usual. "Hey, do you guys know where Mattie is?"

Francis gestures to the deck over his shoulder. "Last time I saw him, he was outside."

"Thanks."

After the door opens and closes, Francis puts a hand out, palm up, to his partner, who huffs and reaches for his wallet.

Outside, Alfred finds his brother on the other side of the pool, lounging on the railing. Alfred doesn't understand how Matthew can balance himself on the wood like that, leaning back against a post with his ankles crossed, and even though the wood of the railing is relatively wide, Alfred could never align himself from rear to foot with such a seat.

"You're back early," Matthew says, glancing at Alfred as the American hops up on the railing perpendicular to him, though Alfred only sits without spreading out. "Did something happen?"

Alfred shrugs. "Lapushka got really upset; I guess he's not used to having Ivan away for more than a couple hours."

Matthew nods. "That's a really attached cat."

"And a really attached owner," Alfred says, chuckling. "You wouldn't believe how much Ivan loves him."

Matthew looks at his brother for a long moment before he smiles slightly. "You seem happy. I'm assuming that everything worked out as well as you had hoped?"

"Yeah, it did." And Alfred is absolutely glowing with happiness, but he quickly recovers. "Anyways, I wanted to ask you about the Niagara trip. Since Ivan and I ended up coming back a day early, do you want to leave tonight or do you want to wait until tomorrow morning. I don't care which, either way."

Matthew's brow furrows. "Niagara trip?"

"Dude, did you seriously forget about it? I thought it was your favorite part of my birthday!"

"No, no, I didn't forget," Matthew says, looking down at his lap and shrugging. "I just thought…I mean, we normally go on the fifth, and you took Russia to Virginia, so _―_ "

"So you thought we weren't going?" Alfred frowns in confusion. "Why wouldn't we go? I didn't think it would be a big deal if we moved it a few days later."

"It's not. I didn't think you wanted to go. You know, you can see me anytime, but Russia is on the other side of the planet, so don't you want to spend time with him this week?"

"Yeah, I do, but I already told you that Ivan wouldn't change anything between you and me." Alfred pauses before he hops down from the railing and turns his back to his twin. "I mean, unless you don't want to go."

Matthew frowns. "Of course I want to go. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, maybe you want to spend time with Prussia or something―" When Matthew erupts into laughter, Alfred turns to face his twin again, confused by the outburst. "What?"

Shaking his head, Matthew continues to laugh hysterically, and Alfred stands and stares until Matthew catches his breath again. Then the Canadian says, "Gilbert and I aren't a thing, Al. He has some sort of crush on me, but we're not doing anything more than fooling around."

"Oh," Alfred says.

"What?"

"I just never thought you were that kind of guy. You said it yourself that France taught you that sex should only be about love and all that."

"Yeah, that doesn't mean I have the same policy."

Alfred turns again, crossing his arms on the railing and looking over the yard. "So you sleep around?"

"Too general of a term," Matthew replies. "And I don't know why this all surprises you. Did you think I was a virgin?" When Alfred shakes his head, the Canadian continues, "And I've never dated anyone, so where do you think I got my experience from?"

"Sex clubs, apparently."

"Hardly. Every now and then, a pretty girl or guy catches my interest, and if the night goes the right way, we might play around. You'd be surprised how many people love the innocent-but-not-really type."

Alfred is silent for a long minute, wondering how long his twin brother has been doing this and why he didn't notice. "I guess I don't know you as well as I thought."

"Don't sulk, Al; it's probably the only thing you didn't know about me."

"You're my twin."

"Are you making a point? You never asked, so I never said anything about it, and the only other way you would have found out is by walking in on me or something equally awkward and embarrassing." Matthew shrugs and hops down from his seat. "Besides, I'm not one to advertize."

"Why not?"

"Really? Have you met our countries?" Matthew scoffs. "If a girl has sex before she's married, you know exactly what everyone around her will say. The same applies to gays and bisexuals, only worse if they look effeminate."

"Dude, you're girly, but not that girly."

"Thank you so much for that reassurance." After a moment, Matthew says, "We can wait until tomorrow to leave. I still need to pack, and besides, you should still spend tonight with Russia, even if not in a tent."

Alfred laughs. "Well, we put up the tent and never even used it."

"That doesn't surprise me."

While Alfred goes to check on Ivan, Matthew wanders into the living room. Arthur and Francis are still on the couch, the former holding a teacup while the latter holds a book open with one hand and has his other arm around Arthur's shoulders. Feliciano is putting a disc into the Wii, and his brother is complaining per usual, but Ludwig and Antonio both seem content. In the kitchen, Kiku and Dixie are in the middle of a conversation, and no one has seen Tino and Berwald all morning.

"Hey, Matt, want to play Just Dance 3?" Gilbert says, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, and the "we" seems to include him, Feliciano, and a very unhappy Ludwig.

It surprises Matthew that Gilbert noticed that he's even in the living room. Judging by the expressions on Francis and Arthur's faces, they are just as shocked, but Gilbert just grins. It's such a blatant challenge that Matthew nods, taking a remote.

Four songs later, Ludwig and Feliciano take a break, and Gilbert chooses "Promiscuous".

Matthew rolls his eyes and chooses the female character, giving his dance partner a glance up and down. "Try to keep up, eh?"

"That's my line, Birdie," Gilbert says as he clicks the male character.

Antonio whistles. "Keep it PG-13, _amigos_."

"You have nothing to worry about," Matthew says, but as the song starts, he's the one moving his hips more than necessary at every possible chance. Lovino smacks Antonio when the Spaniard's eyes start to wander, and Ludwig's cheeks are slowly turning pink.

"You're right; he could seduce a rock," Arthur mutters to Francis.

Francis doesn't reply. He's too busy glaring daggers into Gilbert's back, and if the stutter in Gilbert's dancing is any indication, the Prussian can feel it.

 **Author Note: Short chapter again, and I have no idea where the next one will take me. I'm thinking more Matthew-dissecting, and as for who I will be using to do that, it might be Alfred, but possibly Francis or even Gilbert. Don't know. But regardless, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **A hint for next chapter:**

"I haven't ignored you, have I? I mean, I know I spend a lot of time with Ivan and everything, but I make time for you, too." When Alfred finally looks at his brother, Matthew is staring into the forest, hiding his expression. "Mattie, talk to me. What do I need to do to make you feel like I'm not leaving you behind or whatever it's called?"


	8. Sarcasm

_**Love?**_

 _Chapter 8: Sarcasm_

" _Raindrops fall from everywhere. I reach out for you, but you're not there. So I stood waiting in the dark with your picture in my hand, story of a broken heart._

" _Stay with me. Don't let me go, 'cause I can't be without you. Just stay with me and hold me close, because I've built my world around you. And I don't want to know what it's like without you. So stay with me. Just stay with me."_

―" _Stay with Me" by Danity Kane_

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

When Alfred enters his bedroom, Ivan is curled up with Lapushka. The American wonders how long they've been like that; it seems like Ivan would be bored by now.

"Is your little kitty king happy now?" Alfred asks as he drops his backpack at the foot of the bed and starts switching his clothes so that he'll have something clean to where at Niagara Falls. It's only one night, but there have been mishaps before. Well, "mishap" being the times that he and Matthew ended up wrestling in the mud. He still doesn't know how that happened….

Ivan kisses the top of his purring feline's head before he replies, "I believe so." He glances at his partner. "Why are you packing again?"

"Mattie and I are going to Niagara tomorrow morning. It's sort of a birthday tradition."

"How long will you be gone?"

"It's just one night," Alfred says. "Don't miss me too much, okay?"

"I always miss you."

The honesty in those words makes Alfred's cheek heat slightly. "Yeah. You, too."

"But I am glad that you and _Matvey_ will spend some time together."

Alfred shrugs, thinking about the way Matthew acted a few minutes prior. "He's upset about something, but I'm not really sure what it is."

"We discussed this already, _da_?"

"Okay, yeah, we did, and I talked to him about it, but I don't think we settled anything."

"Then you must try again."

"Easier said than done."

"It is," Ivan agrees, "but I know that you are more than capable."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Alfred says, crawling into bed beside other. He lies down and curls an arm around Ivan's waist so that he can also pet Lapushka, who purrs and leans into the touch.

Ivan simply giggles and says, "Lapushka and I were just talking about taking a shower. Would you like to join us?"

"I don't know." Alfred plants a kiss behind Ivan's ear. "Maybe you should get me dirty first."

"With pleasure, little mouse," Ivan whispers in Russian, and Alfred thinks that the room immediately spiked up twenty degrees because he's already _burning_.

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

Sometimes, Alfred forgets that a lot of his favorite rock bands are from Canada, and in the back of his mind, there's something odd about thinking of Three Days Grace and Thousand Foot Krutch as Canadian.

It's in the middle of a song by the former artist that Matthew jumps slightly before he pulls out his cellphone. Alfred laughs, which earns him a decently painful punch to his shoulder, but he can't help it. His twin is even more ticklish than he is―that's really saying something, too―and Matthew always jumps when his phone vibrates, especially if it's situated very close to his pelvic bone.

Alfred frowns. Why does he know that? He doesn't really know….

The thought trails off as he hears a snort of laughter from Matthew, who is now typing out a text.

"Didn't you say no boyfriends?" Alfred teases.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Matthew says, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

"Friend with benefits. Boy toy. Screw buddy. Take your pick," Alfred replies.

Matthew shakes his head. "None of the above. Gilbert and I don't have a relationship, or at least not if I have any say about it."

"Does he get a say?"

"Who are you now, Al? Dr. Phil? Does having a boyfriend suddenly make you an expert?"

"You're getting defensive."

"No, I'm not, and again, since when do you ever say stuff like that?" Matthew glances at his brother. "I didn't think you even knew what 'getting defensive' is."

Alfred shrugs. "Well, I mean, Ivan is seriously out of touch with his emotions, you know? He doesn't know when he's mad, upset, or in pain, so I did a little research on it. Did you know that people have these things called 'tells'? It's like an open book sometimes."

Impressed and glad to be off the topic of his relationship status, Matthew leans back in his seat. "What are mine then?"

"You get sarcastic when you're lying, being defense, or are really upset."

After a moment, Matthew hums.

"You got it from France; he does the same thing, but you're more likely to hold it in rather than confront someone."

When Matthew looks at the other, Alfred's expression is calm. It's the eerie calm before the storm, or that's at least how Matthew sees it. Usually when Alfred is angry or upset, he openly shows it, but this composure means that whatever it is, he cares too much to be rash about it. And to Matthew, that makes it worse.

"Yes, I'm passive-aggressive. Gilbert seems to agree with you on that," Matthew mutters.

"And it shows recently."

"Is there a point to this little trip down the road of all my flaws? You sound like Francis." The Canadian looks out the window, watching another exit pass by.

"I'm not pointing out your flaws."

"Seems that way to me. Just get on with it, eh?"

Alfred pauses. "I keep telling you that our relationship won't change because of Ivan."

"I'm aware."

"So why are you acting like this?"

"You need to be more specific, Al."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Matthew rolls his eyes before he opens the window, settling his arm there. "Yes, because I am a mind reader. Catch the sarcasm or do I need to lay it on thicker for your little deductions?"

"Matt," Alfred bites, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"Of course I'm not trying to rile you up. Why would I ever try to do such a thing?"

"Are you trying to prove something?" Alfred asks.

"No, why do you ask?"

Alfred isn't sure if Matthew is being sarcastic or not, so he replies, "Because you don't like to fight."

"You're right; I'm always so passive-aggressive that I don't know how to start an argument." Matthew scoffs.

"Dude, stop acting like a chick and tell me what's bothering you!" As Alfred says it, the truck swerves into the emergency lane, and Matthew grips the roof of the vehicle through the window to steady himself. Turning off the truck, Alfred looks at Matthew, blue eyes boring into his brother. "Well?"

"Can't you get a ticket for this?"

"I'm more worried about keeping my fist off your face right now. Seriously."

"Oh, you're serious? I never guessed."

Alfred keeps his promise, and a moment later, Matthew is glad the window is open or else his head would have hit the glass as expletives spill off his tongue. His jaw throbs, and tears prick the corners of his eyes, though he doesn't know if it's from the punch or not, while Alfred flexes and shakes out his hand, not looking at his brother.

Matthew says, "Punches aren't usually the best treatment for sarcasm. Remember that the next time you decide to sock me in the jaw."

"Remember that I'll sock you in the jaw when you get sarcastic then," Alfred grumbles, still averting his gaze.

There's a long moment of silence, and Matthew watches Alfred squirm under his gaze. Two things that will always make Alfred F. Jones uncomfortable: silence and being stared at, especially when he feels guilty about something.

This lasts for barely thirty seconds before Alfred breaks. "Can't we just get this over with and go back to being brothers again?"

"We'll always be brothers, isn't that correct?" Matthew says.

There's a pause. It's a rather short one, but it means that Alfred is thinking rather than spewing the first thing that comes to his mind, which is usually what happens. "Are you jealous of Ivan?"

Matthew doesn't reply, but to Alfred, his silence is the most honest answer he could give.

"I haven't ignored you, have I? I mean, I know I spend a lot of time with Ivan and everything, but I make time for you, too." When Alfred finally looks at his brother, Matthew is staring into the forest, hiding his expression. "Mattie, talk to me. What do I need to do to make you feel like I'm not leaving you behind or whatever it's called?"

Matthew shakes his head. "I don't expect you to do anything, but there's nothing you _could_ do anyways. You're right; you haven't ignored me and you do spend time with me."

"Then why are you so jealous?"

"I don't have a reason. I just am." He laughs dryly. "It's so ridiculous that I can't even make it rational in my own head."

Alfred furrows his brow. "I don't get it."

"I know you don't, and I don't expect you to."

"Then try to explain it, because it doesn't make any sense to me."

Matthew pauses for a long moment. "I want you to be happy, Al. I do, and that's part of the reason I never said anything. But it makes me so…angry that you're happy without me." He shrugs, still not showing the other his face. "It's selfish and awful. I don't like to think of myself as that petty." He pauses again. "So there really is nothing you can do about it. Just let me work it out on my own."

Alfred doesn't reply for a while, but when he does, he sounds guilty. "Okay. But isn't there…you know, someone you like? Even if you don't want to date Gilbert, maybe you should find someone. Then we'll both be dating, so you won't feel left out."

"Not my thing," Matthew replies.

"Uh…I don't get it."

"I'm not interested in dating. And you should really start driving again."

"Oh, right." While Alfred starts the truck again and pulls out into the lane, he continues, "So you're…whatever that word is? You know, you don't feel love?"

"If you mean aromantic, I'm not, and that's not what aromanticism is either, though that's beside the point."

"So why not date? You haven't before, right?"

Matthew sighs and finally looks at his twin. "Al, I'm sure that you would rather talk about anything other than my love life or lack thereof. I'm not going to try to explain myself for half an hour while you zone out."

"Dude, I don't―"

"Lying is bad, Al."

Alfred huffs. "Come on, Mattie. What's the harm in talking about it?"

"Because I'm not allowed to say anything until I've tried. Sort of the same thing they say about aromantics and asexuals, I suppose. And again, you'll zone out."

"I won't! And even _if_ I do, you get to vent, right?" As he says it, Alfred feels like he's talking to Ivan.

Matthew is quiet for a moment, but it's pretty clear that Alfred has won the argument. Right when he opens his mouth to speak though, he jumps again from his phone vibrations.

"What's lover boy saying now?" Alfred asks.

Shaking his head, Matthew texts out a short reply and puts his phone next to Alfred's in the armrest's cup holder. "You don't want to know."

"Sure I do."

Matthew rolls his eyes. "Alright then. He asked if he should buy black or red handcuffs."

"Gross!" Alfred exclaims, gagging. "Why would you tell me that?!"

"You asked," Matthew states, though he clearly enjoys his brother's reaction to the news. "I told you that you didn't want to know."

"Yeah, but now all I can see in my head is you in handcuffs, and that's just _wrong_."

"It is. Gilbert wears them, not me."

"Y-you're serious?" Alfred regrets ever asking, but his curiosity is his downfall many times over.

Matthew nods. "I don't trust Gilbert enough to put cuffs on me. Never in a million years."

"But he trusts you?"

"Apparently. I think it's partially trust and partially just his kink. I'm not really into being tied up, so I would have to trust someone with more than my life for that to happen."

Alfred suddenly has a picture of Ivan like that. His hands cuffed to the headboard, his scarf over his eyes like a blindfold, and some naughty things happening only for Alfred's eyes. But almost as soon as he thinks of it, Imaginary Ivan is crying, begging for it to stop, and Alfred feels disgusted. Definitely not something he'll be suggesting to Ivan.

"Oh, yeah, you never explained the whole dating thing."

Matthew sighs, thinking that he had escaped the conversation. "Alright, but as soon as you start checking out, don't expect me to keep going."

"Deal."

After a moment, Matthew begins, "I don't really see a point in dating. You emotionally give yourself to another person thinking that it will last forever, but it never does, so why put yourself through that in the first place?"

"What about France and Artie then?"

"Off and on trying to kill each other just to hop into bed again? It sounds perfectly healthy."

Alfred shrugs slightly. "So you don't think they love each other?"

"No, I never said that. I believe that they are very much in love. I just don't believe in true love and destiny, so I'd rather protect myself from that rather than get heartbroken over and over again in search of that one person that probably doesn't exist."

"You think no one would love you?" Alfred asks.

"No one can love me if they can't see me. I prefer it that way."

"Prussia can see you."

"Yes, and he's after my body."

"I think you're not giving him enough credit, Mattie. I mean, I paid attention today when we left, and he doesn't look at you like a piece of meat."

"And I'm sure you know exactly how he looks at me, eh?"

Alfred glances at his brother for a moment. The Canadian is staring straight ahead, his face blank, but Alfred knows him better than that. A blank face means confusion. "Yeah, I do. He looks at you like you're a diamond."

"An expensive piece of meat then."

"Mattie―"

Matthew's phone buzzes again.

"What's he saying now?" Alfred asks as the other retrieves the phone from the cup holder.

"Spewing more horrendous pickup lines."

"Like?"

Matthew rolls his eyes and reads, "'Babe, I know my math, and you got a good figure.'"

Alfred laughs.

"It's not as bad as some of the others. He once tried one of those nationality pickup lines, stupid as it was. 'I like my guys like I like my maple syrup: sweet and Canadian.' He didn't use that after we slept together."

"Nationality pickup lines?" Alfred repeats.

Matthew pauses. "I think yours would be…'I like my guys like I like my burgers, big and American.'"

"What about Russian?"

At that, Matthew rolls his eyes. "'I like my guys how I like my vodka: strong and Russian.'"

Alfred smiles in a way that makes him look drunk, but then he quickly shakes his head. "Back on topic! Stop letting me go ADHD!"

"Not letting you; I'm just not stopping you."

"Same thing."

"If you insist."

"Matthew Williams, you are not a piece of meat, Prussia likes you, and you should give him a chance." Alfred proudly puffs out his chest. "See? Best advice ever!"

"What delusion are you living in?"

"You just need to take more chances, dude. I never got anywhere with Ivan by playing around."

"No, you started the Cold War instead."

"That wasn't my fault, thank you very much."

"Sure."

"Okay," Alfred announces, changing topic again, "how about this then: when we get home tomorrow, ask Prussia out on a date and don't have sex with him afterwards. Just see how it goes."

Matthew sighs, but agrees begrudgingly. Then after a few minutes of listening to music, he smiles and quietly says, "Thanks, Al."

"You're welcome. No more bottling things up, you hear?"

"Yeah…okay," Matthew murmurs.

They both know it's a lie, but neither mentions it.

 **Author Note: Aw, poor Mattie! But now that that's cleared up, let's hop back to Ivan next chapter, yes? If you're excited, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **A hint for next chapter:**

Antonio draws Ivan's attention away from the felines for a moment. "I thought you only have one cat."

"That is correct," Ivan says slowly.


	9. Fluffiness

_**Love?**_

 _Chapter 9: Fluffiness_

" _I used to turn around and walk away, never stop to play, 'cause there was no attraction. But in my heart, you start to grow on me kind of suddenly. So now I've changed direction. Knowing it might seem strange; what came over me? Hoping my luck has changed; do you want me like I want you?_

" _A wish upon a star. Wanna be right where you are. You set my world on fire. Babe, I've got a crush on you! A wish upon a star. Can't you see how right we are? We should be together. Babe, I've got a crush on you."_

―" _Crush on You" by Tata Young_

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

"England, may I ask a rather personal question of you?" Ivan asks.

Arthur's teacup pauses in route to his lips. "I suppose. That does not mean that I will answer it."

Beside him, Francis has one arm stretched out on the back of the couch, the closest thing he can get to wrapping his arm around Arthur's shoulders. He doesn't glance up from the book in his lap, but his ears are tuned in to the conversation.

Ivan smiles. "Of course; thank you. Are you in love with France, and if so, when did you realize your feelings?"

Arthur chokes on his tea.

" _Oui_ , we would both like to know, _mon ange_ ," Francis says, grinning.

"Shut it, frog," Arthur mutters through his coughing.

"I apologize if I startled you with such a question," Ivan says as his smile fades.

Arthur's face is crimson, and Ivan and Francis both know that it's not just from the tea. "Why would you possibly need to know that information?!"

Glancing down at his lap, Ivan runs a hand over Lapushka, who purrs even more loudly and stands on his back legs to lick his owner's face. Despite the rough tongue on his cheek, Ivan doesn't giggle or reward his feline. "I…do not know what I feel towards Alfred, and…I would like to learn."

"Then why not ask the frog?" Arthur grumbles, quickly downing the rest of his tea before he sets the cup and saucer on the coffee table.

"He already asked, and I answered without hesitation," Francis says.

Arthur thinks that it's a guilt-tactic. He _knows_ that's what it is, but that doesn't mean that he's any less susceptible to it. After a very long minute of silence, the Englishman clears his throat. "Love isn't something that happens overnight, and I do not believe I ever had a realization. It was more of a…feeling after many decades, and I accepted it."

Lips brush his cheeks before a quiet, " _Je t'aime pour toujours_ _._ "

Without any knowledge of French whatsoever, Ivan can still easily guess what Francis said.

Arthur's cheeks somehow darken. " _M-moi, aussi_."

Ivan decides to leave the duo to their moment. "Thank you very much, England."

"You're welcome, I suppose." Arthur glances to the side, somewhere between Ivan and Francis. "And if you really feel that way about Alfred, then…you may address me by my name."

" _Oui_ , the same for me, _Russie_ ," Francis says.

"Thank you, Arthur, Francis. You may call me Ivan."

When Ivan and Lapushka move to the kitchen, the man's heart feels light. He smiles down at Lapushka―who rubs against his legs and cries―and murmurs in Russian, "I have friends, Lapushka. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Meow!"

"Are you hungry, baby? Do you want some tuna?"

"Meow!" Lapushka cries even more loudly and stands on his back legs for a moment.

Ivan smiles and finds a can of tuna in the pantry. "Alright, alright, I hear you."

Once he opens the can and moves the contents to a saucer, Ivan leads Lapushka out onto the deck. The sun is setting now, and with no litter box in the house, Lapushka goes outside every few hours during the day.

The cat disappears for a few minutes before he returns to his plate. Ivan spends his time watching the sunset and enjoying the slight breeze that ruffles his hair. That is, until the door opens. Ivan turns to see Antonio in his swim trunks.

" _Hola_ ," the Spaniard greets Ivan before he reaches down to ruffle Lapushka's fur.

Ivan nods in acknowledgment. " _Privyet_. How are you?"

"I am well." Antonio smiles as he moves to the pool, sitting down at the edge with his feet in the water. "Lovi is watching some kind of Italian soap opera, and I would much rather swim than listen to him complain about the characters and the bad acting."

Ivan smiles. "I may not understand that situation in particular, but Alfred likes to watch scary movies, even though he is afraid of them."

Antonio laughs. "That really does not surprise me."

After a moment, Ivan moves closer to the pool and sits down with his legs crossed. "Spain, may I ask a very personal question?"

"Do I love Lovino?"

Ivan nods slowly. " _D-da_ , how―?"

Antonio shrugs. "I overheard the beginning of your conversation with _Inglaterra y Francia_." He pauses. "My relationship with Lovino is very much…criticized. When he was younger and under my rule, he was my little brother, but when he grew up and became independent, my feelings shifted from brother to lover." Antonio reaches out and runs his hand over the surface of the water as if the straighten the rippling wrinkles in the liquid blanket. "To answer your question, I love him very much. It is very difficult at times, of course. He is impossible to please, curses more often than not, and never shows how he really feels towards me, but I love him with all of my heart."

"How did you know?" Ivan asks.

"Because I realized that my life would be miserable without him. I want to make him happy, and if one day I could no longer do that, I know that it would be a terrible feeling. And I want this even though many disagree with our relationship."

Ivan considers this. "Thank you."

" _De nada_." Antonio smiles at the Russian. "If I were you, I would not worry so much about naming your feelings. Just follow them."

"I believe that is much more easily said than it is done," Ivan replies.

"That may be so."

When he hears a meow, Ivan looks over his shoulder to see one extra cat. It's much smaller than Lapushka―or possibly it is lack of fur that makes it look so tiny in comparison―and its fur is a white with dark brown accents on its tail and around its neck. Currently, the mystery cat is eating the tuna as if it has never tasted fish before while it eyes Lapushka, who lies a few inches away with his paws tucked under and tail curled around himself.

Antonio draws Ivan's attention away from the felines for a moment. "I thought you only have one cat."

"That is correct," Ivan says slowly.

Lapushka glances at his owner and lets out a purr-cry―that odd, little sound that vibrates in the air like a purr, yet is high-pitched and loud like a cry. His lips seem to curl in a smile before he stretches out on his side and fixes his gaze on the new cat.

"It reminds me of America, eating like that," Antonio comments.

Standing, Ivan walks closer until he's only a foot away. The cat looks up at the newcomer with dark blue eyes, and Ivan smiles.

Lapushka mews and stands. The other feline watches as he trots over to Ivan, crying and purring for attention while he walks in circles around his owner and rubs against him.

The other cat continues to eat the tuna until the bowl skids across the concrete from his dry licks.

Ivan holds his hand out to the cat, speaking in gentle Russian. "Here, little one. I won't hurt you. See?" He strokes Lapushka for emphasis, and the purring fluff meows in agreement. "I can get more food for you if you're still hungry." Lapushka cries again.

Slowly, the smaller cat toes forward. Its eyes dart between Ivan and Lapushka as it approaches, sniffing at Ivan's hand. Lapushka mews and rubs his head against Ivan's other elbow, to which Ivan obliges and pets his fuzz-bucket's head. All the while, mystery kitty touches its muzzle to Ivan's fingers. When Ivan reaches forward slightly, it shies away an inch or so, but then it presses its head to the Russian's palm. Ivan smiles, petting the cat gently.

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

When Matthew slips into the bathroom for a shower, Alfred decides to amuse himself with his phone, and upon picking up the device off the nightstand, finds a text from Ivan.

" _Call when you are free."_

Frowning slightly, Alfred dials and puts the phone to his ear.

" _Hello,_ Fredka _."_

"Yeah, hi. Did you need something?"

There's a pause on the other side. _"_ Nyet _, I do not. If you are busy―"_

Alfred suddenly realizes how cold that must have sounded. "No, no, it's fine. I'm not busy; I just wasn't sure if there was something wrong or not."

" _Nothing is wrong. However, there is a formerly stray cat that wanders around your home."_

"Yeah, the white and brown one? I've pet him once or twice and he eats scraps sometimes." Alfred pauses. "You said 'formerly'."

"Da _, I decided to adopt him."_

Alfred laughs. "Yeah? How long did you think about it?"

Another pause, and Alfred hears the distinct meows of Lapushka. _"A few minutes. It was a very simple decision, and Lapushka likes him as well."_

"Right. Did you check that he is a he and not a she?"

"Da _, Hero is a he."_

"Hero," Alfred repeats.

" _He reminds me of you."_

The American smiles. "How so?"

" _He was very shy at first, but now he is very affectionate and he and Lapushka are currently playing together."_

"Alright. Just keep him out of the house until he's litter-trained, okay?"

"Da _."_

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

"Ve, is there someone missing?" Feliciano asks as everyone gathers in the kitchen for dinner. Spaghetti―freshly made by the Italy brothers―and the ten nations and Dixie are more than eager to dig in. With the States and Provinces back at their own homes, the fancy cooking is coming out.

Francis pauses. " _Oui_ , _Russie_ is not here."

"Must be upstairs," Arthur says.

Antonio says, "He found a cat outside; he might still be playing with it."

A moment later, Francis finds the missing person in the suspected location. Just off the steps of the deck, a sheet is spread out in the grass, and on said sheet, Ivan is lying on his side with two cats curled up against the curve of his stomach, grooming each other.

" _Russie_ , dinner is ready," Francis says as he leans against the handrail.

Ivan glances up from the felines, but makes not move to stand. "Oh, thank you for telling me. I believe I will stay with Lapushka and Hero until everyone has eaten."

"You should eat while it is hot. I am sure that the cats will not mind your absence for twenty minutes." Francis watches the way Ivan cuddles with the furballs, the way he smiles at them like they are his children. "And you did not eat lunch either, _non_?"

Ivan shakes his head. "I am fine."

After Francis disappears into the house again, Lapushka stops licking Hero's head long enough to nuzzle Ivan's nose. Ivan giggles in Russian, "Yes, I love you, too, sweetie."

However, just when Lapushka has returned to grooming Hero―who is purring on his back with his paws in the air―Ivan hears the door open again. Then several voices follow, and Dixie appears first. "Do you mind if we join you? It's so nice out this evening that it would be a shame to stay inside."

" _N-nyet_ , go ahead."

When Feliciano sees Lapushka and Hero, he says, "Ludwig, look! They are so cute! We should buy a cat!"

Ludwig stares at the smaller male. "I do not think a cat would like my house."

"Yeah, dogs are way more awesome!" Gilbert adds as he plops down between his younger brother and Antonio.

Soon, all the occupants of the house are sitting in a half circle in the yard. Ivan furrows his eyebrows at the behavior, but before he can question it, Lapushka mews pitifully up at his owner with big, brown eyes. And Ivan knows that cry. The "I'm-so-hungry-that-I'm-withering-away-please-feed-me" cry. Not only that, but while Lapushka is trained to only eat what Ivan gives him, Hero very obviously is _not_ , and the white fluff is creeping closer to Kiku's plate like some sort of moving bubble bath mishap.

"Ah, Hero, _nyet_." Ivan sits up and picks the cat up and away from the Japanese man. Then he glances at Feliciano. "May they have some spaghetti? Lapushka loves pasta."

Feliciano smiles. " _Sì_! And please, eat some as well!"

"Yeah, seriously," Dixie says, laughing. "If Dad comes back and thinks we didn't feed you or something, he's going to have a cow."

"Have a…cow?" Tino asks.

"Ve, that sounds painful!" Feliciano cries.

"Throw a fit," Dixie corrects.

Ivan nods. "Very well."

And so both cats follow him into the kitchen, though Hero requires much more coaxing than Lapushka. The spaghetti smells delicious, and Lapushka stands on his back paws, cries, and all but turns flips while Ivan washes his hands before he puts enough pasta for both felines on a paper plate and uses a fork to cut the noodles into bite-size pieces. By the time Ivan walks back outside, Hero seems rather annoyed, and Lapushka trots along and cries these long, drawn-out wails of hunger so that his cries are broken by his running. As soon as the plate is set on the ground, both cats chow down while Ivan settles with his own plate, fork poised.

"Aren't they just the cutest things ever?" Dixie says with her eyes on Hero and Lapushka. "What are their names?"

After he swallows his first bite of spaghetti, Ivan replies, "The gray one is Lapushka, and the white and brown one is Hero." He glances at Feliciano. "This is very tasty."

" _Grazie!_ Lovi and I work very hard."

Lovino mutters something that Ivan thinks is a curse.

"Lapushka? Am I saying that right?" Dixie asks.

" _Da_. It means 'little paw', but is mostly used as a term of endearment between lovers."

"How sweet!"

Gilbert rolls his eyes. "Dogs are still better. And smarter, too."

Ivan smiles. A dark, creepy smile. "Lapushka is better trained than most any dog."

"Yeah?"

" _Da._ I am sure that most struggle to bathe their dogs, but Lapushka showers with me every night without any complaint. He sits on my shoulder if he is told, and he responds to simple commands. When he plays, he chews on my fingers, but he never bites, and he always keeps his claws sheathed."

The nations seem rather impressed by this. But Gilbert just says, "Prove it."

Ivan nods before he glances at Berwald, who is sitting in Lapushka's immediate field of view. The man is also finished with his food. "Sweden, if you would, will you set your plate on the ground and push it away?"

Berwald's expression doesn't change, even though everyone else―except for Lovino―looks confused. He does as instructed, and Lapushka perks up with a purr-cry. Then the fluff ball darts to the man's lap, purring and flopping over with his paws in the air with little mews.

"Ooh, I want to try!" Feliciano sets his plate down and scoots it away. "Here, _micio_!"

Lapushka leaves Berwald's lap for Feliciano's, and the Italian lets the cat chew on his fingers.

Ivan glances at Gilbert, who grumbles, "That doesn't prove anything."

Then, to everyone's complete shock, Arthur copies the action. When Lapushka hops in his lap, he scratches the feline's head before he holds his fingers over Lapushka's head for the cat to bat at with fluffy paws.

"England, I never knew you were a cat lover," Antonio says.

Arthur splutters excuses about testing the cat's training very thoroughly while Francis rolls his eyes and says, " _Oui_ , _Angleterre_ has his own feline companion at home. A little Scottish Fold, if I am not mistaken."

Arthur hisses something in French under his breath, and Ivan can only assume it means "shut up", if not something worse. However, any bite is taken from the words when Lapushka cries and bumps his muzzle to Arthur's cheek. Dixie and Francis both snap pictures on their phones.

And so, while Hero eats the rest of the food and curls up beside Ivan to sleep, Lapushka makes his rounds and lies in everyone's lap at least once. Lovino and Gilbert don't seem thrilled by it, and Berwald's expression never changes, but Ludwig smiles the tiniest bit and lets the cat lick his hand. In Ivan's opinion, dinner was very enjoyable.

 **Author Note: Americat and Russiacat sitting in a tree, L-I-C-K-I-N-G! And if you guys want more of that fluff (in more ways than one!), I'm going to write a side story from Lapushka's point of view after I finish Love?, so keep your eyes out for that! If you enjoyed the chapter, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **Translations**

" **Je t'aime pour toujours** **." – "I love you forever."**

" **Moi aussi** **." – "I love you, too."**

" **Micio" – "Kitty"**

 **A hint for next chapter:**

Alfred can't help but return that smile as he sits up and pets the two sleeping cats. "So I talked to Mattie and we got stuff straightened out. I was thinking about a double date tonight."

"He would go with Prussia, _da_?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Where will we go?"

"Blacklight bowling."

Ivan blinks. "Bowling. That is where one rolls the ball to knock away bobble heads, _da_?"

"Uh, pins. You knock down the pins."

"Right. Pins."


	10. Maybe

**So sorry for the delay! I was at a youth camp all week, so I wasn't able to post on time! But thank you so much for all your love for the story, and I hope you enjoy this chapter, too!**

 _ **Love?**_

 _Chapter 10: Maybe_

" _Dancing in the dark, middle of the night. Taking your heart and holding it tight. Emotional touch, touching my skin. And asking you to do what you've been doing all over again. Oh, it's a beautiful thing. Don't think I can keep it all in. I just gotta let you know what it is that won't let me go._

" _It's your love. It just does something to me. Sends a shock right through me. I can't get enough. And if you wonder about the spell I'm under, oh, it's your love."_

―" _It's Your Love" by Tim McGraw_

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

The room is dark. Outside, the bustle of late night traffic is a low buzz that blends with the air conditioning near the window, but the curtains are drawn to block out the light that creeps around the edge of the heavy fabric. Alfred finds that it's the same as when he first arrived home after Christmas: the pillow in his grasp can't compensate for Ivan's absence and the white noise in the room isn't as nice as Lapushka's roaring purrs. Not that he'll ever admit to missing that furry nuisance.

But at the thought of Ivan, his mind wanders. It happens far too often since the camping trip.

" _Ya tebya lyublyu, Fredka."_

Alfred sighs heavily into his pillow.

"Al, if you sigh one more time, I will put you outside," a muffled voice says from the other bed. Even without looking, Alfred knows that Matthew has his face buried in a small mountain of pillows while he's cocooned in the blankets. And yet, the Canadian always wants the bed next to the air conditioner.

Alfred glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Nearly one in the morning. "It's been two hours, and you're still awake, too. What's keeping you up?"

There's a long pause. Then Matthew mutters, "Thinking of places to take Gilbert."

Alfred swears he can feel the heat on Matthew's cheeks from his own bed. "I want to take Ivan blacklight bowling. If you're that nervous, we could do a double date."

"I'm not nervous," is the immediate reply. Then more quietly, he adds, "But that sounds good."

Alfred laughs. "Ivan is either going to be awesome at this or absolutely horrible."

"I can only imagine what Gilbert will do if he's bad at it. He'll probably blame everything on the lighting or something because it's blocking the awesomeness."

"Dude, you picked an idiot!"

"So did Ivan."

"Hey!"

There's a pause for laughing.

After a minute, Alfred asks, "Mattie, can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"How do you know if…if you love…someone?"

Yet another pause. Alfred hears rustling and glances at the other bed to see Matthew's dark figure sitting up in bed, though slightly blurry without his glasses. "Do you really think that I'm the person to ask?"

"Well, you're unbiased."

"I don't think you're using that word correctly."

"Whatever." Alfred shrugs. "Just…he said it, but I think it was…you know, the sex talking."

More rustling, and Matthew stretches out to touch his toes. "Ivan doesn't really strike me as the type to say things he doesn't mean while he's caught up in the moment."

"No, but…I told you; he doesn't know what emotions he's feeling. So maybe he's just confused."

"Al―"

"Hear me out, Mattie. I mean, he thinks that he's perfectly fine when he's sad, and he even thinks he's happy when he's crying…and…and he didn't even understand why he was crying."

"Has he ever mislabeled when he was truly happy?"

"I don't think so."

"And does he throw around words like 'love'?"

"No."

"Then why do you think he's confused?"

Alfred doesn't reply.

"And for the love of maple, if you're that worried, talk to him about it. Isn't communication supposed to be that number one rule of relationships?"

"Yeah, but…" Alfred tightens his arms around his pillow. "That's easier said than done. I mean, it's not like asking about dinner."

"It's not supposed to be easy."

"You're not helping."

"I told you that already, but you insisted on asking." Matthew lies back down, curling up in a ball. "Goodnight, Al."

"Night." A pause. "Thanks, Mattie."

"You're welcome."

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

When Alfred arrives home, the first thing he does is ask Francis where Ivan is.

The Frenchman glances up from chopping peppers. "The yard, I believe."

"Thanks."

In the yard, Ivan is lying on the same sheet, but he has a pillow under his head and a book in hand while Lapushka and Hero are curled up on his torso.

"You slept out here, didn't you?" Alfred asks as he walks down the steps.

Ivan smiles, setting his book aside. "You said Hero was not allowed in the house. What was I supposed to do?"

"Leave him outside? Did that never occur to you?" Alfred chuckles and lies down beside the other.

"I would never do such a thing," Ivan says as he scratches behind Hero's ear. "What if I did that with everyone? You would have spent Christmas as an ice cube."

Alfred rolls his eyes, but he doesn't object. Instead, he leans forward to press his lips to Ivan's. The Russian smiles and brings a hand up into Alfred's hair to keep him in place as their lips move against each other. Trying to avoid the cats, Alfred braces his weight on his forearm beside Ivan's head and lets the other hand trace Ivan's cheekbones and then down his jaw. Alfred's fingertips feel like they're on fire wherever they touch and even when he has to break away because his lungs are burning for oxygen, he wishes he never needed to. Vampires must have it really easy, not needing to breathe and all.

Ivan's head drops back onto his pillow, but his half-lidded eyes are bright and his lips pull into a smile that makes him look so much younger. "I missed you, too."

Alfred can't help but return that smile as he sits up and pets the two sleeping cats. "So I talked to Mattie and we got stuff straightened out. I was thinking about a double date tonight."

"He would go with Prussia, _da_?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Where will we go?"

"Blacklight bowling."

Ivan blinks. "Bowling. That is where one rolls the ball to knock away bobble heads, _da_?"

"Uh, pins. You knock down the pins."

"Right. Pins."

"So you've never been bowling before?"

Ivan shakes his head. " _Nyet_. I apologize that I will not have the experience to participate properly."

"Dude, you can still 'participate properly' or whatever!" Alfred rolls his eyes. "I'll teach you all the stuff, and then you'll be a pro!"

"Then I will look forward to it."

Alfred glances down at the cats. Hero is splayed out on his side, and Lapushka is in a similar position, but he has one paw over Hero's stomach with his tail curled over their hind legs. "So you're adopting Hero?"

"At this point, I think Lapushka would smuggle him home if I did not."

"It's a good thing they get along, I guess."

Ivan nods. "And Lapushka is training Hero as well. Or at least Hero copies Lapushka. They seem to talk to each other quite often."

Alfred opens his mouth to reply, but then he looks back at Ivan. And if Arthur thinks Alfred's puppy eyes are bad, he should just look at these big, violet eyes. Alfred swears that Ivan is trying to pull his heart straight out of his chest with the pleading look Ivan is giving him.

"What is it?"

Ivan glances down at the cats for a moment and then back at Alfred. "They become overheated very easily, and Lapushka did not want to leave Hero to bathe."

"Okay, okay, Hero can come in! Geez, just stop with the puppy eyes!"

Ivan beams. "Thank you, _Fredka_!"

"Yeah, yeah."

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

"Watch and learn, Matt. We can beat those _Dumkamphs_ any day!" Gilbert says as he picks his ball.

His bowling ball already in hand, Matthew raises his eyebrow at the other. "I'm sure, Gil. Just blow them away with your awesomeness."

"You know it, baby!"

Alfred smirks and holds up his ball. "In your dreams! A Canadian and German knock-off can't beat an American and a Russian. _We_ 're superpowers!"

Ivan rolls his eyes in unison with Matthew.

"Prussia is so much better than Germany!" Gilbert says. "Just try your superpowers in the lane!"

"Will do!"

Matthew and Ivan follow their eager partners to the lane. It's nearly midnight, but the blacklights haven't come on yet. Ivan's glad though; he still doesn't know what he's supposed to do exactly.

Gilbert has to go twice to get all of his pins. Then Alfred goes and knocks down his pins on the first try.

All the while, Matthew explains the rules and basics. After hearing that Alfred got a strike, Ivan tilts his head slightly and asks, "But strikes are bad, _da_? When one earns three, one runs out."

Matthew furrows his brow. "Are you talking about baseball?"

Ivan shrugs.

"In bowling, strikes are good."

Ivan nods.

Ivan takes his ball from the rack in the center of their little nook. There are three holes at the top of the ball in a triangle that looks like a stereotypical ghost's face, but he doesn't understand which fingers go in which hole. After a moment of just staring at the ball, a warm presence presses against his side. "Here, you put your thumb here." Alfred points to the largest hole. "And then your middle and ring fingers go in the other two."

And that's great. Now he has his fingers in the right position. But he still doesn't know how to roll the ball. He glances at Alfred.

An arm wraps around his waist and leads him towards the lane. "Be careful; the floor is really slippery."

Alfred holds Ivan's wrist while he stands behind him and peers down the lane from the other side. "So you're going to swing your arm back and take a few steps, and then you bring your arm forward and release. Just try to get the ball down the middle."

When Ivan tries the first time, Alfred follows through with him, but the ball goes in the gutter about halfway down the lane. Ivan sighs. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, silly," Alfred says, laughing. "Come on, you get another try. Want to try on your own this time?"

Ivan nods.

It's actually easier without Alfred behind him. Less distraction and he has better control of his body. So Ivan tries again, adding more force behind the roll and trying to regulate his swing. He releases a bit too late, so the ball more or less just drops on the lane paneling and then wobbles into the gutter.

"It's not as easy as it looks, but you'll get the hang of it," Alfred says as Ivan sits beside him.

When the screen shows that it's Matthew's turn, Gilbert grins and says, "Want me to help you out, babe? I can probably lend you some awesome skills."

Matthew glances over his shoulder at the albino, brandishing his ball in one hand. It's a size nine, the same size as Alfred's and one above Ivan's and Gilbert's. "How about this: you can help me when my score drops below yours. Is that fair, _babe_?"

Gilbert nods with expectant eyes.

Alfred chokes on a laugh and murmurs to Ivan, "That's not happening."

Before Ivan can ask what he means, Matthew is stepping into his execution. The ball rolls straight down the lane and clatters into the pins, knocking them all down with an almost explosive force.

"Hm, I'm out of practice," Matthew comments to himself as he settles into his seat again. Gilbert is still gaping.

"Dude, if I beat you, you owe me nachos," Alfred says.

"And if I win, you owe me…" Matthew pauses, glancing at the floor for a moment. "A CD of my choice."

"You're on."

Gilbert finally closes his mouth. Then he says, "You're pretty good, Birdie."

"Imagine that," Matthew replies, but a smile tugs at his lips regardless.

It takes three rounds for Matthew to miss his first strike, but Ivan finally keeps the ball in the lane long enough for it to take out three pins. When the Russian returns to the nook, his eyes are childishly bright and his smile lights up the area more vibrantly than the blacklights. "I did it!" Before Alfred can say anything, Ivan lifts the American in his arms and spins him around. "I knocked over pins! Three of them!" He kisses Alfred on the cheek. "Did I do well?"

Alfred laughs. "Yes, sunflower, you did good."

Matthew chuckles with a little smile. "And he thinks that it might not be love." Then he adds, "Touch me and you're going to be the next pin I strike."

Gilbert snatches his arm away from Matthew waist.

Several minutes later, Alfred wins the round and he goes with Matthew to get his nachos. Meanwhile, Gilbert runs to the bathroom. But as he walks back to the nook, he passes Ivan, who is poking keys on a vending machine before he pulls out a bag of gummy worms from the bottom.

"I never thought you were the gummy worm type," Gilbert comments.

Ivan shakes his head. " _Nyet_ , they are for Alfred. He enjoys them."

Once Ivan walks away, Gilbert sneaks over to the vending machine, eyeing the gummy worms. _Twins like the same things, right?_ Then he sees gummy bears.

Matthew returns to the nook with a very happy Alfred trailing behind him. "Next round is mine."

"Bring it on, bro!" Alfred says around a mouthful of chips and cheese.

Rolling his eyes, Matthew leaves Alfred with Ivan at the table beside the nook and sits down in his seat. As he pulls out his phone, he wonders where Gilbert disappeared to. Then he frowns down at his screen. _Maybe he left. Probably has better things to do than hang out with me and two lovebirds._

A moment later, Matthew senses someone beside him and he glances up. Gilbert's face is red, only a few shades lighter than his eyes.

"Gil, what―?"

"I got you bears." Gilbert thrusts a plastic package in front of Matthew's face.

"Bears?" Matthew takes the bag and glances down at the colors he can see through the clear parts of the plastic. Then he smiles. "You got gummy bears?"

" _J-ja_."

Without further ado, Matthew opens the package, fumbling with it for a moment. After the first little bear disappears in his mouth and flavor bursts on his tongue, he smiles and looks up at Gilbert. "Thank you."

"No problem! You know, gummy bears are awesome, so of course I would get them for someone as awesome as you." Gilbert's cheeks are now as red as his eyes, and Matthew thinks that the albino looks as cute as he does ridiculous.

"Right." Matthew pops another gummy bear in his mouth before he stands up long enough to give Gilbert a kiss on the cheek.

Gilbert smiles. "So you like them?"

"I love gummy bears. Not as much as maple syrup, but still."

Still stuffing his face with nachos, Alfred glances at his brother and lets out something akin to a snort.

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

By the time Ivan and Alfred lie down in bed with a squeaky clean Lapushka and much less clean Hero, the clock reads nearly midnight.

"So you're going to take Hero with you?" Alfred asks. The mentioned cat is spread out with his back aligned with Alfred's legs. Lapushka is in a similar position against Ivan, and the two felines have their legs tangled together while Lapushka grooms Hero's cheek.

Ivan glances down at the cats. "I would, but I believe that he has chosen you over me." Then he stares at Alfred with heated seriousness. "You must take very good care of him."

Alfred chuckles and kisses Ivan's cheek. "Yeah, I will if it means that much to you. But I still blame you for getting that fur-rat attached to me."

"And I am sure it is not the other way around and you are attached to him."

"Of course not."

They fall into silence, but Alfred isn't asleep or even close. And so after a few minutes of quiet breathing and darkness, he murmurs, "You still awake?"

" _Da_. What is it?"

"Do you remember…um, when we slept together…you know, on the camping trip?"

Ivan is quiet for a moment. "Very clearly. Why do you ask, _myshka_? You do not recall?"

"No! I mean, I remember," Alfred says. His hand is resting on Ivan's hip, but he trails it to the small space between their chests and takes the Russian's hand in his, interlacing their fingers. "You said…that you loved me."

" _Da_ , I did."

"Did you mean it?"

Another pause. Alfred shifts his legs a bit.

Then Ivan leans forward so that their foreheads and noses touch. "I believe so. I have never felt this way towards anyone else, but…when I am with you, I feel warm, even in the snow, and I always want to smile. And when you hurt, I hurt, and when you laugh, I laugh. I think that is love, _da_?"

Alfred smiles and laughs quietly. "Yeah. I think so. I-I mean…I think I love you, too."

Ivan laughs, too.

They lie there together and hold each other. Laugh. Kiss cheeks and noses and share Eskimo kisses, but nothing anymore heated. And Alfred swears that this feeling could never be love. Nothing could ever describe this, never mind a single word.

 **Author Note: That was pretty quick, I know, but I'm not really one for the drawn out explanations and confessions. So one more chapter to go! If you're looking forward to it, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **A hint for next chapter:**

After the song ends though, Matthew says, "Al, this is just depressing. Get something through the speakers to _dance_ to."

"Like what? Disney?"

Ivan thinks Alfred is joking. But then Matthew nods. And Alfred reluctantly releases Ivan and moves to where his phone is plugged into the television speakers.


	11. Epilogue

_**Love?**_

 _Chapter 11: Epilogue_

" _I was looking for sense in my existence. I have lost my innocence in doing so. I finished my heart without defense. I was looking for love and recognition. I paid the price of silence. You gave me a sense to my whys, like the need to be myself. You killed the fear, sleeping there, sleeping there in my arms._

" _You're the one that's making me strong. I'll be looking, looking for you, like the melody of my song."_

―" _J'ai Cherché"/"I Searched" by Amir [English Translation]_

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

"It appears that everything is sorted," Arthur comments into his teacup, sitting at the counter while Francis pulls honey from the cabinet for his own cup.

"What's sorted?" Alfred asks around a yawn as he walks into the kitchen and rubs a hand through his hair.

"Nothing, _Amérique_." Francis points to the coffee pot. " _Allemagne_ was considerate enough to make coffee."

Alfred retrieves a cup from the cabinet and starts pouring the coffee. "Who's Alley Man?"

"Germany," Arthur mutters.

"Oh, cool." After the first sip of coffee, Alfred seems to change from a zombie to at least a koala as far as awareness. "Do you guys like dinosaurs?"

Francis frowns and furrows his brow, but Arthur just answers, "I'm indifferent to them, considering that they're extinct. Why do you ask?"

" _Terra Nova_ is on Netflix again, so I'm rounding up people who want to watch it."

Francis pauses. "'New Earth', _oui_? What is it about? Other than dinosaurs."

"Earth is dying and stuff, so people go to a dinosaur world to live. It's pretty awesome, and I wish they would make a second season." Alfred scowls into his coffee mug. "It's like every good dinosaur show gets killed."

"Killed?" Francis repeats.

"Yeah, like they only made one season of _Terra Nova_ , and then they killed off the main dude in _Primeval_ , so I didn't want to watch it anymore after that. You can't just kill people." He glares at Arthur. "And you can't only air three episodes per season and wait two years between each season!"

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman are very busy actors, and I do not control _Sherlock_ 's air dates."

Alfred mutters something under his breath.

Everyone ends up agreeing to watch _Terra Nova_ in the living room. The space is slightly cramped, but everyone fits without too much issue, though Francis, Arthur, Matthew, and Gilbert have to fit onto one couch and Arthur complains about not wanting to be pressed so close to the frog, lest he be molested. Of course, he doesn't have any problem with Francis's arm around his shoulders when no one is looking. Matthew doesn't seem to mind Gilbert's arm around his own waist either. Meanwhile, Tino is comfortable in Berwald's lap in the armchair again, and in the other chair, Feliciano is copying the other couple, now seated on Ludwig with his arms around the blonde's shoulders. Lovino is sitting beside Antonio on the loveseat while Kiku and Dixie are in the other. This leaves the remaining couch for Alfred and Ivan to stretch out on. With Lapushka and Hero tangled up in their feet, of course.

The beginning of the first episode in interesting enough, but it isn't until the first dinosaur is shown that Ivan lights up.

"That would be amazing!" Ivan whispers in Russian to Alfred, who chuckles. On screen, the little girl is feeding small branches to a long-necked dinosaur.

"I didn't know you liked dinosaurs that much," Alfred replies.

Ivan nuzzles into the back of Alfred's neck and tightens his arms around the other's shoulders, but he keeps his eyes on the television. "Neither did I."

But then the scary dinosaurs come out during the next episode. When a person gets eaten in a sneak attack, Alfred and Gilbert burst in unison, "Oh!"

Lapushka cries and stalks up Ivan's body to his owner's ribs, where he lies down and licks at Ivan's jaw. The feline gives Alfred a look that clearly says that he is not doing a good job of something.

In Russian as to not embarrass his partner, Alfred glances over his shoulder and asks, "Are you scared?"

"No, don't be stupid." Ivan's eyes are barely peeking over Alfred's shoulder.

"Okay, so I'm not scared of ghosts and you're not scared of dinosaurs, right?"

Ivan grumbles, "I'm not scared of the carnivorous ones."

"Okay. I'll be your teddy bear when you're not scared, sunflower." Alfred smiles as the arms around him tighten.

oO_Oo_oO_Oo

That night, after Kiku, Tino, Berwald, the Italy brothers, Ludwig, and Antonio have left for the airport, Alfred brings together the remaining nations for a small dance. Matthew, Francis, and Arthur are staying for a few more nights, but Gilbert and Ivan have to leave tonight, and Alfred isn't hiding his unhappiness.

So the three couples are slow dancing in the foyer to country music.

"When can you visit again? Or I'll visit you," Alfred murmurs into Ivan's scarf.

Ivan slips his hands under Alfred's shirt and rubs his lower back. "The next world conference is in New York, _da_?"

"It's not until October though."

"I know."

"I don't want to wait that long. I _can't_ wait that long. Waiting for April was torture."

"I know, _myshka_."

Alfred sighs.

"Do not worry about it right now. Relax." Ivan kisses his forehead. "You normally sing your country music to me."

"Don't wanna sing sappy love songs when you're going to leave in a couple hours."

"But I wish to take that southern drawl to my home with me, _darlin'_."

Alfred laughs. "So ya still like a country boy?"

"Of course. More than like."

"Well, if ya want me to sing, then I gotta oblige to my sunflower, ain't that right?"

Ivan smiles into Alfred's skin. " _Da_."

Alfred pulls away from Ivan's neck and loosely wraps his arms around the other's neck. "Well, I'm gonna live where the green grass grows. Watch my corn pop up in rows. Every night, be tucked in close to you. Raise our kids where the good Lord's blessed. Point our rockin' chairs towards the west. And plant our dreams where the peaceful rivers flow. Oh, where the green grass grows."

After the song ends though, Matthew says, "Al, this is just depressing. Get something through the speakers to _dance_ to."

"Like what? Disney?"

Ivan thinks Alfred is joking. But then Matthew nods. And Alfred reluctantly releases Ivan and moves to where his phone is plugged into the television speakers.

"You're serious?" Gilbert asks the question before Ivan can.

"Dude, Disney is the best thing ever!" Alfred says while he fiddles with his phone.

Matthew nods and takes a step away from Gilbert, but he keeps their hands laced. "If you want to make it with me, you must understand that."

"He's not joking," Arthur says while Francis nods.

"It's for kids though," Gilbert says.

"So the music is crap?" Matthew scoffs. "Narrow-minded idiot."

"Preach it, Mattie!" Alfred cheers before music starts from the speakers with one sentence: "Tell me something I don't know."

Alfred moves back to Ivan and takes his hand before he begins some sort of dance. It seems to involve shaking hips and shoulders and randomly placed steps. "Everybody tells me that it's so hard to make it, it's so hard to break. Yeah, there's no way to fake it. Everybody tells me that it's wrong what I'm feelin', I shouldn't believe in the dreams that I'm dreamin'. I hear it every day. I hear it all the time. I'm never gonna amount to much, but that's never gonna change my mind. Oh!"

Then Matthew starts jerking Gilbert's hands back and forth and singing. His voice is just as loud as Alfred's somehow, and his smile…Gilbert swears he's melting. "Tell me, tell me, tell me something I don't know, something I don't know, something I don't know. Tell me, tell me, tell me something I don't know, something I don't know, something I don't know." His dancing is a little more coordinated that Alfred's. "How many inches in a mile. What it takes to make you smile." Matthew turns and presses his back to Gilbert's chest. "Get ya not to treat me like a child, baby."

"Tell me, tell me, tell me something I don't know, something I don't know, something I don't know," Alfred finishes.

Ivan and Gilbert very quickly decide that they like Disney music.

As the next song starts, Alfred looks to the couple stepping to the beat in the corner. "Come on, Artie; loosen up! I know you like this song."

Arthur scoffs. "Hardly."

"Yeah, right." Matthew changes his hip movement to the new beat. "We know that you're a rocker."

"The Jonas Brothers are not rock."

"But you know who they are," Francis says.

Arthur scowls, but doesn't object.

At the chorus, Alfred starts dancing with Ivan again. "I'm slippin' into the lava. And I'm tryin' to keep from goin' under. Baby, you turn the temperature hotter. 'Cause I'm burnin' up, burnin' up for you, baby."

And much to everyone's surprise, Arthur picks up the next verse and even lets Francis dance with him with the Frenchman's hands on his hips. "I fell so fast. I can't hold myself back. High heels, red dress." Francis rolls his eyes. Well, his shirt just happens to be red. "All by yourself, I gotta catch my breath."

Ivan hums and murmurs to Alfred, "Arthur is a good singer."

"Yeah, you should hear him play electric guitar."

The next song starts with a bunch of "la la la", and Alfred laughs, "This one's yours, Mattie."

"With pleasure," Matthew all but purrs, and Gilbert reaches for his waist for another dance. The Canadian laughs and slaps the hand away with a little grin before he starts singing. "Why am I always hit on by the boys I never like? I can always see them coming from the left or from the right." Even as Matthew dances around the room, Gilbert follows him, and Arthur rolls his eyes. "I don't wanna be a priss; I'm just tryin' to be polite―" Matthew lets his admirer pull him to his chest before he pushes away. "―but it always seems to bite me in the―

"Ask me for my number; yeah, you put me on the spot. You think that we should hook up, but I think that we should not. You had me at 'hello'. Then you opened up your mouth. And that is when it started going south. Oh!"

Matthew laughs as Gilbert catches him by the waist and twirls him. This time, Matthew doesn't pull away, even if the lyrics tell the opposite. "Get your hands off my hips before I punch you in the lips. Stop your staring at my―hey! Take a hint! Take a hint! No, you can't buy me a drink. Let me tell you what I think. I think you could use a mint. Take a hint. Take a hint!"

Ivan is content to let Alfred sit out on singing this one. "Contradictory, is he not?"

"Yeah, but he's also the opposite of what everyone thinks, so it fits." Alfred laughs. "Besides, Prussia's still chasing him, isn't he?"

"A valid point."

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

Lapushka and Hero say their goodbyes via meows and licks on the head before the Russian cat is put in the car. The ride to the airport is spent in silence, but it so short. By the time Ivan is ready to board his flight, Alfred thinks that only minutes have passed.

"Text me when you get home," Alfred says.

"I will."

Alfred throws his arms around the other and buries his nose in that faded scarf. It smells of wood fire and sunflowers, even after a week away from its home. Taking a deep breath before he lets go, Alfred stares up at Ivan and says, "I'm supposed to say that I love you now, right? Isn't that what couples do?"

Ivan smiles and kisses Alfred's crown. "Christmas Eve at my house, we fell asleep on the couch together and I let you touch my back. Do you remember?"

"Yeah, of course. It was kind of a big deal."

"And I told you then that the complexity of our relationship will never change."

"Yeah. You're right, I guess." Alfred smiles and laughs. "But it's not that. I mean, if I say it, that means you're gone." Then he looks down at his feet. "Geez, I sound like a school girl or something."

"I do not mind."

A pause.

Alfred finally leans up to give Ivan a quick kiss on the lips. "Have a safe flight. I love you, sunflower."

" _I ya tebya lyublyu, Fredka_."

And just like that, he's gone. Alfred sighs.

While he drives home, Alfred turns on the stereo and plays "Ain't No Thinkin' Thing" by Trace Adkins. A small smile pulls at his lips.

On the plane, Ivan closes his eyes and leans his head back on the head rest. One hand slips under his scarf. The little sunflower charm is warm from being pressed to his skin.

 **Author Note: And that's all Crow wrote! I just thought of that, and it amuses me greatly. Anyways, keep an eye out for the next part from Lapushka's point of view―** _ **Of Heroes and Kitty Kings―**_ **because it will up next Friday! And if you a) enjoyed the chapter or b) think I'm awful at writing endings, please, Please, PLEASE REVIEW!**

" **Where the Green Grass Grows" by Tim McGraw**

" **Tell Me Something I Don't Know" by Selena Gomez**

" **Burnin' Up" by Jonas Brothers**

" **Take a Hint" by Victoria Justice and Elizabeth Gillies**


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